


Wanderer

by Seralyn



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 47,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23538712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seralyn/pseuds/Seralyn
Summary: The ring was made of brass with an emerald set into its middle. Emerald for his birth month or so he was told. Rin had lived in three centuries and countless decades. He was never certain of anything. The tale that was repeated most to him, was that he was born in France on the twelfth of May in seventeen-forty-four. Sent by a letter from the mysterious Master Raymond, Rin travels to North Carolina of 1770 and encounters the Frasers whom he feels a strong connection too.
Comments: 53
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

_~Rin could feel all of their eyes upon him. His heart was pounding with such ferocity that he wondered if they could hear it. He was reminded of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart. He was the body in the floorboard tormenting the unnamed narrator. Except he was also the unnamed narrator slowly losing his wit. “Who are you?” Mistress Fraser asked again. Her golden eyes, so like his own, were narrowing into slits. He felt himself shrinking. It was a mistake to travel to their land. It was foolish of him to burden his mission so. He was not here to claim the identity of the lost Fraser child. That child was in Boston.“I am Rin Benoit from…,” he could see aggravation settling into her fine features. He could not lie to the person he had strongly thought could be his mother, “I am not sure. I was given the name Peregrine…”~_

**T** he ancient rocks at Craigh na Dun looked just about as inconspicuous as all other portals did. An unsuspecting circling of rocks. The British Isles had countless similar reiratations. Why he wondered and not for the first time, why, was this one the portal? His lessons had included their locations but not why or how or when these portals came to be. Yet another question he was adding to the thousands that would never be answered.

As he approached the humming came. At first low like the hum of crickets and then louder and louder until it engulfed all other sounds. No longer could he hear the rustling of the high grass as his feet shuffled through it or the birds chirping at the breaking dawn. He shifted his leather bag, it had been digging into his shoulder uncomfortably, and reached into it. His hand brushed against scrolls of papers, vials of various potions, a sheathed dagger until he felt the ring. The ring was made of brass with an emerald set into its middle. Emerald for his birth month or so he was told. Rin had lived in three centuries and countless decades. He was never certain of anything. The tale that was repeated most to him, was that he was born in France on the twelfth of May in seventeen-forty-four. He had been named Peregrine from the Latin  _ peregrinus _ meaning wanderer or traveler. The name had earned him many snickers and jeers. He had settled upon the nickname “Rin”. His last name had changed many times. The latest he had been going by was Agustin.

He wished he could say the sensation of traveling through time had gotten easier. That the sensation of his body contorting into the narrow stream had grown to be a familiar comfort but it had not. He passed through these stones much as he had the other portals. With his eyes closed tightly and whispering prayers for it to be over soon. When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with a grey Scottish morning. Gone were the lights of Inverness as they should be. He had returned to his supposed century of origin. From within his bag, he pulled out the journal he’d come to call his survival guide. He had spent his early teenage years in the Upper Rhenish Circle in the largely disputed territory of Alsace. He had left there in the fall of 1793 at the age of fifteen. It was his closest vantage point. He settled himself on a sturdy tree not far from the rocks to try to re-acquaint himself with his new time period.

He would like to say he adjusted well to the transitions of time periods and centuries. But sometimes he made lingering connections to certain places or to people. In Alsace, Master had been a very well respected healer and they had lived in prosperity. Rin had experienced his first kiss there. A girl named Elsebeth von Holmstedder had been the one to kiss him. She would not yet be born. An odd sense of realization fell over him. If he had stayed and lived forth his life from his birth year of 1744, he would have been forty-nine-years old in 1793. Elsebeth von Holmstedder had kissed a man old enough to be her father.

_Pull yourself together_. _You did not travel here to think of Elsebeth_. From within his bag he pulled the letter which had the year 1769 written in Master’s delicate writing. It was the last of the letters and the last of his tasks. Once he finished, he’d be a free man. Free to settle wherever he wanted.

A/N: First time posting on A03. Please let me know what you think:)


	2. Chapter 2

_~Claire took a moment to examine her newest patient. He had not disclosed an age to them and if she had to guess, she’d think he was between the ages of eighteen to twenty-one. He had a gentleness about his features. His nose, which she suspected had been broken once or twice, was long and mostly straight save for the slight right curve.The nose was framed by high-cheekbones and dotted by freckles.There was something unsettling about him. From his sudden appearance to the things he said. Perhaps, his fever would lead to some answers. He stirred in his sleep, turning onto his stomach. His shirt was half-way up his back exposing a surgical scar along his spin. She recognized it immediately as one to correct the curvature of the spin. A surgery not yet invented. ~_

Rin loathed the sea. Its vastness and thrashing of waves terrified him and it did no wonders for his stomach. When he’d been directed to the portal in Inverness he assumed his task would be on the continent of Europe, but no, the writing had only the words Wilmington, North Carolina. He looked outward, why couldn’t I go through the New York portal?

That portal was within the depths of the lake marred by drownings. Lake Ronkonkoma was rumoured to be haunted. Some said it was the spirit of an Indian Princess named Tuskawanta who drowned the men. She fell in love with a white woodcutter and wrote him letters. Never receiving a response, she rowed to the center of the lake and stabbed herself. This lady of the lake drowned a man each year to replace her lost life. Rin suspected that some of the men who drowned did truly drown and rested at the bottom of the kettle lake, but the others, they might have traveled to some unknown time period. He’d met one of those travelers in the 1620’s. A rather brute man who the Native Americans left to his own due to his terrifying bear-like appearance. And the stench. Both over stimulated one’s senses. He had only traveled through that portal once. It was a terrifying experience letting yourself slip into the depths of the lake, straining your ears to hear the muffled humming.He’d take those few moments of discomfort over traveling by ship.

“Are you alright laddie?” It was the voice of Ponsoby Kelly.

Rin had saved his daughter from following overboard on the first night of the trip. Brigid Kelly had been trying to see the dolphins her brother Gerhad had claimed were there. He’d caught her by her cloak and hauled her back onto the ship. The Kellys had seemingly absorbed him into their large brood from there. He was a short fellow with the dark Irish look about him. His wife, Mary Ellen, was the opposite, with golden-red hair and fair freckled skin. Their children, ranging in age from six months old to twenty, were an assortment of their parents’ features. Some solely resembled one of their parents and others showcased different parts. Sometimes two that looked nothing alike would make the same face or gesture. Rin found himself immensely fascinated by the display. Master had been his ancestor. That was why he’d been saved on the day of his birth, but enough, generations separated them that there was no genetics shared. No hair color or twitch of the nose to indicate they were related. He wiped at his mouth and forced himself to smile. Brigid peaked out from behind her father. She had become his shadow since he rescued her. Carrying a bucket for him and regaling him with childish tales. She even stayed beside him as he emptied the contents of his stomach and he found her stories a good distraction from his nausea.

“I’ll join you below in a bit Mr.Kelly,” Ponsonby jerked his head in acknowledgement before disappearing into the throng of passengers. Brigid came to stand at his side. Her dark locks spilling free from her plaits and she offered him a toothy grin.

“Who are you traveling’ too?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I’m hoping my master will tell me once I reach Wilmington.”

“Master? Are you indentured?” _Sort of._ He wanted to say but instead redirected her attention towards the celestial sky. He had, when his stomach permitted it, been telling her the stories from Greek mythology. She had a great love for Orion and loved to point out the stars that made up his belt. _~Wilmington, North Carolina Royal British Colony 1770~_

“Peregrine!” The calling of his true name made him feel as if he were about to hurl once more. He was about to met Mr. Kelly in the customs house when he caught sight of her. She was a short woman with lily white skin, golden red hair and a hauntingly turn of her pointed chin. The aurora that marked her as a traveler shimmered. “Cousin!”

“Peregrine?” Brigid asked.

“My name in full, dear.” He tried to muster a smile at this person but he had never seen her before. She was not one of the usual people who came to settle him into a new period. “I did not expect Uncle to send you.”

She kissed both of his cheeks and eyed Brigid momentarily before responding to him. The words came effortlessly from her mouth. Uncle George sent his tidings and well wishes but his recent bout of pneumonia left him unable to make long journeys. She had been sent in his stead and hoped he would not take too much offense to it. “I have sent Tom to collect your things.”

“I have some business to attend to at the Customs house, cousin. Would you and Tom mind bringing the carriage there? It shall not take long.” He did not wait to hear her answer but from the sour look that came across her face, he knew she did mind. Brigid’s tiny hand slipped into his and she began to tug him along. As he walked, Brigid skipped her voice rapid and high pitched as she told him that she did not like his cousin and she did not like Wilmington.

His farewells to the Kelly family had been harder than he anticipated. He found himself peeking his head out of the window and craning his neck in an odd way to continue to wave to them. His cousin who’d introduced herself as Abigail Simmons.

“Where is that we’re going?”

“A charming estate,” Abigail said as she took a swig from a dented flask.

“Will there be more clues-

“You must be daft,” she interrupted, “Master Raymond told me you were one of his most astute students. A prodigy. And here you are asking questions with such simple answers.”


	3. Chapter 3

“You look French,” Abigail proclaimed with such disdain in her voice. He tried not to take offense to whatever it was she was trying to imply. He wanted to inform her that he’d met many French people in many decades and that there was not one shared look among them. He knew he certainly did not sound French, though it had been the second language he’d learned. His accent was an amalgamation of all the places he lived. He had a knack for unknowingly adapting the patterns of speech of those around him. Raymond said that was one of his best qualities and would allow him to fit in more seemingly. “Your mother shall be my father’s sister. She ran off and married a French man...Benoit it means-

“Blessed from the Latin Benedict.” 

Her dark eyes narrowed dangerously as she fixed him a glance, “my father is Lord Simmos, fourth Duke of Somerset. You are his heir. Unless I have a son.”

“Sounds-

“You are fluent in French no?” 

“ _Oui. C’est ma langue seconde. Je connais aussi l’italien, l’allemand et l’espagnol.”_

“Very impressive.” Her tone of voice indicated that she did not find it all impressive.

The carriage puttered up to an immense estate. Two round pathways of stone lead up to the grand staircase. Its doorway was behind tall Grecian towers. Its facade of grandeur indicated that whomever was the owner was one of wealth. African American slaves tended to the hedges and the houses grooms and maids stood in two rows to welcome them. He climbed from the carriage onto legs that had fallen asleep and who were still not quite used to steady land after months at sea. He stumbled but did not fall. Rin managed to compose himself and turned to offer a hand to his cousin. 

A delicately dressed man stood atop the steps. Rin would recognize that frown and slender build anywhere. From the look that crossed his face, as if he’d smelled dung, Rin knew Oliver de Bisset had too recognized him. Abigail ran up the steps curtseying before him and then kissing his cheek. Oliver looked much older than he did the last time Rin had seen him, though the wig and the face of white makeup probably was not helping.

“Father may I introduce your nephew-

“Peregrine.”

“Oliver.” he hissed in return. 

He had last seen Oliver in Mount Sinai hospital in 1984. It was the latest year they had ever traveled to and its inherent risks were weighing on Oliver, whose health had been poor in that decade. They had gone for the purpose of an advanced surgery. Rin’s back had grown curved despite Master Raymond’s braces and other strange techniques. For years he endured strange smelling ointments and drank fouler tasting concoctions. Nothing halted his curve. The doctors at Mount Sinai said he had one of the most aggressive curves and set to putting metal rods into his back to straighten his spin. His back had not pained him in years and the only remnant of the surgery was the scar that stretched from the base of his neck to his tailbone.

“ _Merde_.” Abigail uttered, “you two know each other?”

“We’ve met before,” Oliver said diplomatically. Oliver had termed him a useless waste the last time. _Why don’t we just leave him in an orphanage and be done with him_ ? Those words strike fear. Rin could remember playing with the frayed ends of the blanket trying to hear what Raymond said in return. _He’s more trouble than he’s worth_. “Welcome to Coventry.”

He was ushered into the grand foyer of the home. Abigail was telling him the history of the estate, though he wasn’t listening. Instead his eyes roamed over the hallways searching for some clue left behind by Raymond. Would it be etched into the columns or hidden within a painting? Rin could never be sure.

“He’s not been here,” Oliver said as if reading his thoughts and then bitterly he added, “he never is.”

His bedchamber rested on the end of the west ring that overlooked the stables. He supposed this was done on purpose as the smell that was wafting through his window was quite unpleasant. The room itself had not been used in a long while and dust clung to every bit of furniture. Using spare towels he stole from the nearest washroom he set about dusting and shaking out the quilts. He began to hum at first nonsense before moving onto Beethoven.He had an ear for music. That was what the court music teacher had told him when he learned to play harpsichord in the sixteenth century. 

~ _Outlander~_

“Monsieur!” a voice shouted halting Rin in his quick strides to catch up to Abigail. She had been ignoring his calls to slow down. “Monsieur! _Attendre_!” 

He turned to find a woman from Hutchinson’s shop following after him. She had been the one watching as he tended to a boy’s dislocated shoulder and now that he was not occupied he could see the aurora surrounding her as well. Was she a messenger from Raymond? He had been in 1770 for nearly a month. He found no clue on the property of Coventry, nor from Abigail or Oliver, who both showed their disdain for him in different ways. 

“ _Madam_ ,” he addressed taking his tricorn hat off and bowing to her. 

She was a pretty older woman, with black curly hair that was streaked with grey. Her amber eyes were examining him. 

“How did you know what to do with the boy’s arm?” 

“Uh…,” he was taken off-guard by her question. He’d been expecting she’d introduce herself. He turned his stutters into a cough. As he tried to compose himself, a man appeared behind her. He was tall with copper red hair and slanted blue eyes. 

He placed his arms gently on the women’s shoulders. “Dinna fash, _Monsieur._ My wife is a healer herself. She just wanted to ask about your technique.”

“I just used gentle rotation to return the liga-the boy’s inside arm parts to where they belonged.” 

He had learned how to fix a nursemaid's elbow when he served in the First World War as a medic in France. Rin had celebrated what he thought to be his eighteenth birthday in May of 1917, having spent two years in France, he’d been swept up in the patriotism of serving. Raymond had allowed him to serve as a medic. He spent a year pulling bullets from bloodied limbs or making tourniquets out of whatever materials he could find. 

“Peregrine!” Abigail screamed. She must have realized that he was no longer following her. “You must excuse us-

“I am James Fraser and this is my wife Claire.”

She curtseyed seemingly remembering that she was supposed to be a daughter of a Lord. “I am Lady Abigail Simmons, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And this is my cousin, _Comte Benoit_.” Before James or Claire could say anything more, Abigail was tugging at his elbow, “we must be on our way. My Lord father is expecting us for tea.”

A/N: Rin says he is fluent in Italian, German and Spanish.


	4. Chapter 4

**R** in could feel the heat flooding his cheeks. He was gripping the table cloth over and over again, trying to remember to breathe. Both of their voices screamed, their tones combining to form a rather awful tune. “Enough!” he roared, releasing his grip on the poor wrinkled cloth. A slave raced forward to smooth it. “I helped a little boy! What….they woulda broken his arm worse or amputated it or something!” His eruption had silenced the both of them. Shock was drawing across their features. They had not yet heard him become angry. The last time Oliver had seen him he’d been a soft-spoken boy of eight. He straightened out his shoulders and stood to his full height. He towered over them both. “Maybe you did not hear him shrieking Lady Abigail? His face was turning blue when I intervened! How could a person who could help ignore such a plea?” 

Abigail looked like a guppy, her mouth opening and shutting. He did not allow her to think of a response and then retorted bitterly, “or is there a blackness where your heart is supposed to be you bloody wench!”

She regained her composure then and marched up to him to strike him across the face. He figured he might deserve such a reaction, but still it stung and he couldn’t help but to cradle the stinging side in his hands.

“You’re not here to play Doctor.” Oliver said over her retreating footsteps.

“Then what am I here for?” 

“Do not take your frustrations out on me. I haven’t a clue why you were sent here or back to me. I’d rather much like not seeing you.”

Rin was feeling rather enraged and that comment could not hold it in, “it was not my fault Raymond took me for surgery. It was not my fault that he cared for me like a-

“Like a son?” Oliver was now grinning and biting down laughter, “oh you foolish boy. What kind of father leaves his son? Or lets him risk life and limb traveling through stones and ponds and waterfalls for what? He is not your father Peregrine. As he wasn’t mine.” 

_ ~Outlander~ _

Claire found him sitting at the piano in Jocasta’s parlor room. Peregrine, the healer she’d encountered in Wilmington looked much the same as he did on the morning she met him. His unruly curls had been tamed with ribbons and a plait. He had been in the back of her thoughts since she’d met him. Perplexed by his advanced medical training and the odd feeling that she’d met him before, she’d been unable to get his face from her thoughts. His eyes were closed and for a moment she thought he was asleep, but instead his fingers began to tap above the piano playing an imaginary song. His slim fingers were practiced and precise. As he pretended to play, he began to whisper-sing a jazzy song. 

_ “ _ _ Quand Madelon vient nous servir à boire.Sous la tonnelle on frôle son jupon. Et chacun lui raconte une histoire. Une histoire à sa façon. La Madelon pour nous n'est pas sévère. Quand on lui prend la taille ou le menton. Elle rit, c'est tout le mal qu'elle sait faire Madelon, Madelon, Madelon!”  _

She recognized the tune as  _ Madelon _ . A song that gained popularity with the French in World War I and later again in World War II. She’d heard French soldiers singing it. It was noted to be a cleaner song for soldiers, telling a story about a regimen of soldiers flirting with a young pretty waitress. Could the song have been invented in this time only to find more popularity later?

At the end of his refrain she could not help but to clap. Startled by the sudden noise and evidently quite drunk, Peregrine turned knocking his drink to the floor where the glass shattered. The wine began to stain the carpet purple. He clammored off the bench seat wildly. His balance was clearly affected by his intake.

“Shite.” He said. His amber eyes found her then and smiled sheepishly, “ _ Madam Fraser _ . Tis’ good to see you again.” With great trouble he lowered himself and began to pat at the stain with his sleeve, only accomplishing to stain his sleeve and to rub in the stain on the carpet. Seemingly giving up on that endeavor, he went to the glass shards.

“Be care-...,” Claire began but his hand fell on a piece of glass. Crimson droplets began to join the purple. He made no noise, no gasp of pain or revulsion at the blood spilling onto the carpet. Either it did hurt as much as it appeared to or he was simply that drunk. She crossed into the parlor and pulled him to his feet by his upper arms, carefully avoiding his bleeding palm. “Your cravat?” She pointed to it before untying it from his neck. She wrapped it around his palm tightly to stem the bleeding. 

“Ow!” he cried.

“C’mon, I’m going to have to stitch your hand up. Grip onto this,” 

He was an obedient drunk, following behind her like a duck. On her way to the stairs, she caught Jamie’s eye as he conversed with Farquard Campbell. He made a polite excuse and met them on the second landing. Jamie led them to the second floor parlor and went to fetch her few medical supplies. 

“Sit,” She told her patient gesturing to the sofa. He sat at the end and when prompted, give her his injured hand to examine. The cravat was soaked in blood, but the cut did not seem to be dangerously deep, “can you move your fingers?” 

He winced as he gingerly moved each finger in turn and then all together. 

“That’s good. Any tingling feeling in your finger tips?”

“No Madam.”

Jamie returned with her kit of sewing supplies and some whiskey. She did not think it wise to give Rin any more than he had already consumed, but it’d be good for disinfecting his hand. Now that she was sitting closely, she could see that his eyes weren’t just amber. They had golden flecks and spots of darker brown and they were intently watching her as she began to sew together the skin. The wound needed five stitches until it was sealed shot once more. Uncorking the whiskey, she watched as he shut his eyes and turned away. He jerked and let out a slight hiss of pain.

“ _ Merci _ .” 

“How did ye do that to yer hand?” Jamie asked from where he sat on the coffee table. Her treatment seemed to have sobered him up a bit and he had the grace to duck his head and blush. 

“That might have been somewhat my fault.” At this admission, Rin looked up at her startled, “he was pretending to play the piano and singing a lovely song,” The blush spread across his cheeks and the chest that was now visible under his waistcoat was turning red. “Overcome, I clapped and scared him so he dropped his wine and then when he went to pick it up, he lost his footing and…,” Claire gestured to his injured hand.

Jamie laughed and the poor Comte turned redder still. He was beginning to match tomatoes in color. “What song were ye singing?” 

“ _ La Madelon _ . Have you ever heard the tune?” 

“The title doesna sound familiar Sassenach. Perhaps, the comte could sing it for us.”

Rin said something at first that was incoherent but he shook his head no violently. “ _ Madam, Monsieur  _ you humor me, but alas, I will not sing again tonight.” The redness in his face was fading away, “Madam Fraser, where have you heard this song? Tis’ not a common one.” 

“I fear I do not remember,” 

He shifted in his seat. She could tell that he was expecting another answer. 

“Perhaps in Paris, Madam? Have you spent any time in Paris?” 


	5. Chapter 5

“ **A** long time ago,” Claire settled upon exchanging a glance with Jamie above the Comte’s head. His eyes still glared at her pleadingly, so she elaborated as she bandaged his hand, “Jamie and I were there before the Rising, for about a year in 1744. Were you in Paris at that time?” 

Since meeting him, Claire had felt like she’d seen his face before. It was achingly familiar but each time she tried to match his features with someone she knew, she found herself drawing blanks. Maybe he’d been a child she treated in Paris. Maybe that was why his face haunted her. His face and his unnatural knowledge of medical techniques not yet invented. 

“I’m told I was born there, in that year. Though I spent some time there later, tis’ where I learned how to do what I did with that boy’s arm.” He was staring at his bandaged hand. “Though I must admit I have been familiar with the art since I was young...my-my Père was a healer of sorts.” 

“And who was your Père?” Jamie asked.

She had told him of her suspicions regarding Peregrine. Jamie had tried to tell her to let it go, but still, it lingered. It lingered even after they’d been robbed by a man they’d helped. After their arrival in Riverrun. And now he was asking about her time in Paris when she last encountered people who shared her gifts. Those people were inherently more dangerous. How much harm could be innately within a man who left parties to go pretend to play a piano and sing to oneself?

Rin was chewing on his lip, “Monsieur Benoit was my Père.” 

“Right,” Claire responded, “and Mr. Fraser is my husband’s father.” 

Rin opened his mouth to respond, but a shrill cry of his name silenced him. It was his cousin, Abigail Simmons. They had found she was much kinder to them in Riverrun. 

“Peregrine! I have been searching to and fro for you. I was growing concerned,” She then noticed his hand and reached for it, “What happened?” 

“A minor mishap with a wine glass,” Claire intervened.

“Dear me.” She fanned herself and smiled prettily at the Frasers. “Thank you for coming to his aid and I give you our deepest apologies for his clumsiness dragging you away from your party. We’ll bid you farewell for now so that you may return to your guests.”

“He’ll have to return in a week’s time so that I may remove his stitches. And if he develops a fever..,” Claire's voice was being drowned out by Abigail pulling Peregrine to his feet. She appeared to be muttering in German. She only knew a few words in that language but it was one of Jamie’s tongues. He was listening intently as they walked out the door.

_ ~Outlander~ _

Abigail led him to the deck that wrapped around Riverrun. She knew she could be gentler with him, but there was something about his naivete that irritated her. Part of it was because she must have recognized herself in his wide-eyed expression and steadfast belief in Raymond to return. Once, she too had that faith. Once she believed he would share the elements to immortal life. Instead she’d been trapped here for nearly a decade, playing the part of a spoiled heiress fending off suitors left and right and trying to prove to Oliver that she was no longer a child. She loved him and she knew there was a part of him that was beginning to grow fond of her.

“She’s a time-traveler too,” Peregrine whispered. He was leaning on the railing. His head propped up on his hand. “Fraser’s wife.”

“What?” 

“I can see her aurora.”

He could see the auroras? Or had Raymond trained him specifically for that task? 

“She also knew  _ La Madalon _ . What year...when were you born Abigail?” 

They had not spoken about their pasts. She and Peregrine or Rin as he preferred to be called were much better at arguing. It was amusing to watch his face grow red. His pale skin flushed so easily. And she had been so bored at Coventry. 

“1534, in London,” she answered, watching as a dark eyebrow shot up to his hairline, “under the reign of King Henry the VIII. My mother was a lady-in-waiting to Anne Boelyn...well until she lost her head.” 

“Are you?” he asked, eyeing her golden-red hair. “His daughter?” 

“I-I do not know. I was told my Papa died just before I was born. People used to remark that Bessie-Queen Elizabeth I and I looked alike.” He was smiling at her with a glance that looked both awestruck and terrified at the same time. She did not like the way he was appraising her. “What about you?” 

His smile faded away and he began to nervously play with the bandage on his hand. “Raymond told me I was born in 1744 in Paris. He told me that they did not want me, my parents. He’s taken care of me ever since.” 

No wonder he was so fervently awaiting his return. He had never known any other family. Raymond had truly been his only family. It explained so much about his character. She stood and shuffled to where he stood, to place a comforting hand over his uninjured hand that was clasping onto the bannister. 

“I really think Madam Fraser must be his next clue. That she knows more and is waiting to see if I’m trustworthy to indulge upon. You and Oliver mustn’t stop me from visiting her again.” 

“Alright.” She conceded. “I shall not stop you and I will do my best to occupy Oliver.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“T hey’ve left Riverrun?” Rin asked once more, staring at Jocasta and at the man who seemed to have replaced her shadow. More than a week had passed since he injured his hand and though he would have tended to his own hand, he wanted the opportunity to talk to Mrs. Fraser.

Jocasta Cameron frowned. “Are ye deaf? My nephew and niece dinna want to stay.” 

He could tell from her tone that she was greatly affronted by their decision. He could not say he blamed her. She was a childless widower with great lands to bestow upon someone. She had named her nephew as the heir, but they had seemingly turned it down. Oliver had been quick to disparage their decision.  _ They are new here. This land would guarantee they would be fortenous in the colonies _ . Abigail was quick to agree with him, voicing that  _ their thinking is backwards _ .

“Madam Cameron, if I could be so forward-

“If ye could be so forward? Are ye not already standing on my front steps uninvited?” She began to shake her head, making a gutteral noise deep within her throat. “Ulysses will fetch a map to show you where it is they went.” 

“ _ Merci _ ,” 

He followed behind Ulysses. He pulled out a map of North Carolina, indicating where both Riverrun and Coventry were. His finger traced a great distance to the land that Governor Tryon had allotted to James Fraser. Without needing to ask, Ulysses informed that it would be about a week’s ride at fastest. He could never escape from Oliver for two weeks. Abigail was not clever enough to explain his absence for that long. He returned to Coventry, feeling equal parts dismayed and annoyed.

His days in the estate were mundane nothingness. Each morning he awoke and ate breakfast with Oliver and Abigail and then ventured to the library. His fingers would brush the edge of the shelves, searching for titles in Spanish and in French and in Latin, wishing to challenge himself. The attempts would usually lead to his midday nap. Harriet, a kindly African slave, would wake him for afternoon tea. She found his sleeping position, one of his long legs hanging over the edge of the chair and his arms tucked under his head, to be amusing, though she tried to muffle her smiles. He’d join the for tea, where he felt like an endless interloper or voyeur to a relationship he did neither understand nor did want to understand. If the weather was agreeable he’d ride on Shelly, a beautiful copper mare whose temperament was quite gentle. Each of these rides ended invisibly in the northwest corner of the estate. The direction in which he’d have to travel to reach the Frasers’ land. It would be the sensible voice in his head that brought him back.  _ You have no supplies. You would die in the wilderness. Oliver would catch up to you _ .

On the month anniversary of the party at Riverrun, he returned to the library less enthused. His finger only half-heartedly dragged along the bindings of books. It was the sudden dip his finger took in the history section that made him halt. He was careful to return each book to its place, but this book was laying down horizontally. Had Oliver or Abigail been using the library? Curious, he pulled the book from the shelf. There was no engraving on the cover or author’s name. The front page revealed the name of the book. The title was  _ L’histoire des voyageurs du temps.  _ The History of the Time-Travelers? Was he reading that right? The book was not a usual book with chapters, but instead with names. His heart leaped at the sight of  _ Fraser _ . He flipped the yellow pages furiously. It was a book of family trees. His eyes scanned until he fell on the only two times he knew.

_ Claire Beauchamp Fraser born 1918 , London England married James Fraser born 1721 Lallybroch/Inverness, Scotland  _ ,  _ 1743 _ . There was one line extending down from them that split into two. What it said made him feel as though his heart would stop.  _ Faith Fraser, born 1744 Paris, France, died 1744 Paris, France and Baby Fraser, born 1744 Paris, France _ . His fingers gingerly turned the yellow page, but found the tree ended there, with  _ Baby Fraser _ . When Harriet arrived to summon him for tea, he ordered that she find Abigail and send her to the library. The kindly older woman stared at him. It was most unusual of Rin to bark requests, but did as he bidded.

“Yes?” Abigail uttered as she crossed the threshold of the library. 

He shoved the book at her and pointed to the family tree. Rin did not trust he could find the words to attempt to explain where his mind was currently going. She sighed and took the book, reading each line of the family tree. “Oh Rin,” her voice was full of empathy intermixed with pity, “you think?” 

Rin could feel the energy surging within him. “It could make sense! I was born in Paris in 1744 and so was that baby.”

Abigail had closed the book. She was shaking her head, “do you know how many babes were born in Paris in that year? It must have been thousands. Hell it does even put forth a birthdate. This baby could have been birthed in January or August or December or hell any other month but the one you think you were born in.”

“May. I was born in May.” He found himself unable to ingest her reasonings, “Claire is a traveler-

“So am I and you never thought that I could be your mother! Or perhaps Oliver is your father!” 

“Tis’ a bloodline.”

“Aye, it is.” There was a softness to her tone now. He was not sure he liked it better than the pity one. “You told me that your parents did not want you. If the Frasers are your parents, which they probably are not, why would you wish to pursue them now?”

“What if this is the task for me,” Rin said as he walked to the shelf where he’d discovered the book, “I have spent every day in this library since we arrived back from Riverrun. This book was not here until this morn.”

Abigail folded her arms, “Rin, this library is huge! There is no way you could have possibly known which books were here and which were not.”

“I still want to talk to Mrs. Fraser.” He hated the way his voice sounded so small. He could remember asking Master Raymond about his mother. Surely, his young mind concluded, he must have had one. His voice sounded like that little boy. 

“I am sure you are many things, Peregrine. A fool you are not. Do not hold onto this notion,” She took the book from where it rested on the table. “Come join us for tea.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**“A** _ leannan _ ,” Jamie whispered to his daughter. He pressed a delicate kiss to the diamond shaped marking behind her ear. He felt as though he could spend an eternity in this dream, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

The slight sound of someone snoring startled him. He looked to Brianna, but it was not from her direction that it was coming from. He whirled around to find that the source of it was slumped across an armchair. Peregrine Beniot. Why the devil was he dreaming of him? With one last kiss to Brianna’s temple, he tore himself from her to look upon the Frenchman. By the looks of it, he’d fallen asleep reading. A leather bound book rested on his lap and he was still adorned in a riding coat. His hair was a right royal mess. A ribbon only held half of what it was supposed to and wild curls flew out in all directions. A smile began to tug at the corners of his lips. 

“What are ye doing?” Jamie questioned though he was not truly expecting an answer.

Peregrine must have heard him, for his eyes flew open. Amber eyes glared around and blinked. Benoit rubbed at his eyes and squinted. Benoit couldna hear him? 

“Mr. Fraser?” the sleepy voice that came from him had lost its French accent. Instead it was a British one mingled with something Jamie couldna place, “what are you doing here?”

Rin had not meant to fall asleep. His back spasmed as he moved. What was Fraser doing here? Why hadn’t Abigail or Oliver woke him up? Or Harriet? He tried to put himself together, tugging at his wrinkled clothing and running a hand through his hair. His fingers only became tangled in the knots that always seemed to form no matter how many times he brushed.

“Jamie? Can you hear me?” 

The figure of the Scotsman disappeared. Peregrine blinked once more. Had he been dreaming? Or was it the fourth glass of wine? Rin suddenly no longer wanted to be alone in the darkened library. He stood and began to walk towards the door when his foot stepped upon a piece of tartan cloth. He picked up the frayed piece, and ran. It was not until he reached the safety of his bedchamber that he realized the nature of the late night visitor.  _ Projection astrale _ . 

There had been a time in his life where Master Raymond thought Rin was capable of the same feat. For years, Rin would dream of monstrous machines that roamed streets and of silver dragons. Raymond at first dismissed it as a young boy’s wild imagination. It wasn’t until Rin returned with a shiny piece of metal from the machine that Raymond believed him. For months they conducted studies. Raymond would force fed him concoctions of violent colors to try to force him into projecting somewhere but the ability was one Rin could not control. 

“You dreamed of Fraser?” Abigail questioned, one of her thin eyebrows were in her hairline. She was working on embroidery. Her fingers were sewing in a gentler manner than he expected. The wine she had consumed left a faint blush on her cheeks and she was trying to stifle the hiccups that had overcome her.

“I didn’t just dream,” Rin held up the faded piece of tartan. “It's Fraser’s colors.”

She took the cloth and began to study it. While she was distracted, Rin took her glass of wine and shifted it was so that it was now out of her reach. 

“Rin,a person cannot be in more than one place. You know that to be the truth of the matter as do I. I highly suggest you get this foolish notion out of your mind. I am knowledgeable enough to know that this matter of dream visits relates back to you thinking or hoping or wishing that thee is the baby Fraser in that book.” 

They had not mentioned the book since he found it. He would be lying if he denied that he thought somehow Fraser coming to visit him could be related to it. He’d found his notes from that time in his life. Whenever he projected himself, there was a girl he’d always see. A girl with brilliant red hair. Raymond had thought she might be his tether and he wondered how they could be connected. With Fraser, Rin thought there could be a connection. Claire was a time-traveler and it was a genetic trait. 

“I have to go to Fraser’s Ridge.” It was a conclusion he’d come to shortly ago. Even if it turned out he was as Abigail thought, a fool, it’d put his uneasy mind to rest. He stood from the table gathering his cloak from where it rested. “I have to ask-

“Ask them what? Oi did you leave a baby in France?” 

“Yes.” 

“You cannot-

“I can.” 

***

Claire could tell there was something else Jamie was not telling her. He had a practiced facade that rarely let any sort of emotion through, but after years of experience she knew when he was not being forthright with her. She decided not to press, sensing that whatever it was, was something that had been affecting him.

“Ye ken the dreams I be tellin’ you about Bree?” he whispered one night in the darkness. They were alone in their cabin. Ian had fallen asleep some hours ago and his intermittent snores were a telltale sign that he was still deep in slumber.

“I remember,” 

How could she forget that her husband knew about Bree’s birthmark? The tiny one behind her ear. One she had not thought about in some time. When she was small, Claire would too press kisses to it. But it became invisible as fiery red curls grew in and forgotten.

“It wasna just her I saw,” 

“Oh?” 

“I saw...  _ Comte Beniot _ .” The Frenchman’s name felt as if it was painful to speak of. Claire shifted in their bed to face them. She had not forgotten about the Frenchman, though Jamie had seemed to. She usually was not one to put much stock into dreams, but the one about Bree’s birthmark gave her contrary to ponder about. 

“Where did you see him?” 

“He was asleep mostly. Like Bree.” Jamie was sitting up in bed now, staring out into their cabin. Claire propped herself up on her pillows and pressed a comforting hand to his back. “Claire, he has a scar running up and down his spin. It doesna look right.” 

“Scars often do not look right.” 

“That isna what I mean. It looks too perfect.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**R** in was often told that he acted more than he thought. Usually it was Raymond who said it or Oliver. And sometimes, it came with a swift slap to the rear of the head or a belt to his bottom. His decision right now felt as if it was one that warranted a belt to his bottom. He was ill packed and ill prepared for a week journey into the North Carolina wilderness and he was angry and sore to show for it. He had managed to stir a feeble fire that was doing little to warm his extremities. 

It was the sixth day of his journey. If he read the map correctly, he’d come onto Fraser land come sundown the next day. His legs ached at the thought of climbing atop a horse once more. He was never a keen rider. He and horses never seemed to understand one another. Not in the way his instructors had spoken about.

_ Now think of a story _ . He could not just show up on their land and expect to stay. Maybe he could tell them he had heard stories of Mrs. Fraser’s abilities and wanted to apprentice under her? That surely would not be too suspicious. Except, he was of nobility and could study underneath other more reputable men. He’d have to come up with a reason why his Uncle had disowned him. Perhaps the more scandalous the better. Maybe he’d been caught deflowering the daughter of his intended. 

The other matter would be more serious. Could he be the baby Fraser in that book? He was not sure if it was madness, that he was so sure of it. He looked like Claire Fraser. Her hair was just as unruly as his was. And her eyes. Her eyes were the same honey color. And he could not explain the surging connection he felt when he thought of her. If she were not his mother, she was certainly his relative.

He had dreamed of his mother when he was younger. Raymond used to like to tell an amusing story about when he was three or four. They were living in Spain at the time and he’d escaped from his governess. He was adorned only in his sleeping shirt and apparently he walked up and down the cobble street roads asking any dark haired woman, “ _ ¿Eres mi mamá?” _ . Many of the local women were amused by him. Raymond and his governess discovered him in a store being fed sweets by a set of Spanish sisters. 

***

“There’s someone coming Auntie,” Young Ian whispered beside her. They had settled themselves on the deck of the little cabin. A candle provided just enough light to not be enclosed in total darkness. Both were awaiting Jamie’s return from town. Her nephew stood, squinting into the night. Claire too could hear the pounding steps of a horse trodding. “That isna Uncle Jamie.” 

The pale light of the moon revealed that the rider was dark haired and from the looks of it barely holding onto his horse. Claire gathered her skirts and began to walk towards the rider. Whomever it was, was in need of assistance. The man pulled the horse to a stop and he whispered, “Madam Fraser…,” the voice was weak and horse. It’s speaker,  _ Peregrine Benoit _ . She took the reins of the horse and tied them to the nearby post. Benoit was holding onto his horse’s man, blinking up at her, “Ian help me get him down.” 

She could feel the heat radiating from him. His clothes were wrinkled and he reeked as though he had not bathed properly in days. Together, she and Ian pulled him from his horse. It took him a moment to register that he was supposed to walk. He was mumbling something in her ear as they walked but she was more focused on getting him to the nearest bed and beginning the process of lowering his body heat. She and Ian lowered him into Ian’s bed.

“Start taking off his clothes.” She was searching for the pail to dip a cloth into. 

Her nephew looked quite displeased with the task he’d been given, but he began nonetheless peeling off his waist coat and his long socks. “Arms up,” Ian barked as he tried to force gangly limbs upward. 

Benoit’s eyes flew open and he moaned and shook his head. “No.” 

“Yer burnin’,” Ian replied and his hands went to the rem of his shirt. With a surprising fastness of a man with such a fever, Beniot grabbed Ian’s wrists. “No!” His voice was louder and firmer this time. 

“Ian go fetch me water from the creak.” 

Claire pulled the stool to sit beside him. “How long have you been sick?” 

“Last night.” 

Ian returned with an overflowing bucket and she began to assess his state. He’d been traveling for a week with little food and water. She began to brew a mixture of yarrow for him to sip on. As it brewed he fell to slumber.  Claire took a moment to examine her newest patient. He had not disclosed an age to them and if she had to guess, she’d think he was between the ages of eighteen to twenty-one. He had a gentleness about his features. His nose, which she suspected had been broken once or twice, was long and mostly straight save for the slight right curve.The nose was framed by high-cheekbones and dotted by freckles.There was something unsettling about him. From his sudden appearance to the things he said. Perhaps, his fever would lead to some answers. He stirred in his sleep, turning onto his stomach. His shirt was half-way up his back exposing a surgical scar along his spin. She recognized it immediately as one to correct the curvature of the spin. A surgery not yet invented.


	9. Chapter 9

“ _Ifrinn_!” Ian cried upon seeing the scar that marred the pale flesh. Claire recognized the exclamation as hell. She agreed with the assessment. This was the scar that Jamie had mentioned as being too perfect. It trailed his spin from tailbone to neck. From the amount of scarring, she could deduce his curve had been aggressive and luckily the surgery saved him from later years of pain and from possible lung and heart problems. 

To save him possible embarrassment, she tugged the soaked fabric down and gently shook his shoulders. He took the cup from her without bothering to ask what was inside of it. Its contents were diminished in two large gulps and she refilled the glass with water. He drank four cups before Jamie returned. 

“Sassenach?” Jamie said looking between the feverish Comte, Ian and herself. The tone meant _what’s going on_. And that was what she intended to find out. 

“Ian could you please fetch some more water? And maybe look in on the animals? See that the Comte’s horse is fed and has water?” 

“Aye,” Ian replied nodding. 

Once he was gone, Claire stood and walked to Jamie. Rin’s eyes though bloodshot followed her movement. She was trying to think of the best way of approaching this. 

“Comte,” she said in the calmest voice she could manage, “we know about the scar on your back.” 

Jamie’s slanted eyes found hers and then flickered towards the Comte.

“My sc-scar?” 

“I also know why you have that scar,” Claire continued, “you had surgery to correct the curve of your spin did you not?” 

He nodded, “when I was eight.” 

“That surgery will not be invented for nearly one hundred and fifty years….,” she was watching his face.

“Mistress Fraser,” he cut in. His voice had lost any sort of its French accent. His eyes focused on the wooden floor, “in France did you….did you….were you pregnant?”

“Why are ye wondering about that?” Jamie cut in. 

“Yes,” Claire answered and felt herself sinking. Faith was not a topic that was brought up frequently. Though the pain had subdued from being raw it still aches as if it were a broken bone being irritated by an incoming change of weather. The storm caused a drop in pressure. “A baby girl, Faith.” 

Jamie was staring incredulously at her.

“Did you have another baby?” 

Jamie grunted. “Why the hell are ye askin’ about our bairns?” 

“Please….please.” There was a desperation to the plea. 

Claire could not explain why she felt compelled to divulge information to this stranger, but her tongue was moving, “we have a daughter, Brainna. She lives in Boston.” The expression on his face was heartbreaking. His skin already so pale lost all of its color and a vacant stare overcame him. 

“We told ye about our bairns. I believe my wife asked you a question.” 

Rin could feel all of their eyes upon him. His heart was pounding with such ferocity that he wondered if they could hear it. He was reminded of Edgar Allan Poe’s The Tell Tale Heart. He was the body in the floorboard tormenting the unnamed narrator. Except he was also the unnamed narrator slowly losing his wit. 

“Who are you?” Mistress Fraser asked again. Her golden eyes, so like his own, were narrowing into slits. 

He felt himself shrinking. It was a mistake to travel to their land. It was foolish of him to burden his mission so. He was not here to claim the identity of the lost Fraser child. That child was in Boston. “I am Rin Benoit from…,” he could see aggravation settling into her fine features. He could not lie to the person he had strongly thought could be his mother, “I am not sure. I was given the name Peregrine, but I do not know my true last name.” His fingers had taken to fiddling with his shirt. He felt utterly foolish. “I was born in May of 1744 in Paris, France and I am a traveler like you Mistress Fraser, I have lived in three centuries and I’ve lost count of the different decades I’ve visited. You were right in assuming my scars are leftover from the surgery to correct my scoliosis.” He reached for his bag that had been so kindly left beside his cot. From the tiny tin contained he pulled the polaroids. His nurse at Mount Sinai had brought him a disposable camera. “This is me….in 1984 in hospital recovering.” 

Claire took the photos. In them she could see a cute little boy sitting atop a hospital bed. In the first he was laying in the bed, the second he was grinning and in the last he was sticking out his tongue goofily at the camera. He was a cute child with the same messy hair and wide eyes. Jamie came to stand behind her. 

“For the last few years my father has been sending me forth on missions to different time periods to collect things for him. This is to be my last mission. He is a fickle man and does not enjoy giving me peace of mind,” The Frasers stared at him oddly, “He usually does not give me directions but allows me to stumble my way through. I thought…,” and his voice was catching on the back of his throat, “I thought that you two were a part of my mission. I recognized you as a traveler at once but now I think I might have been mistaken. I apologize for returning so unexpectedly. I shall leave in the morning.”

“You’ll leave when that fever breaks.” Claire said firmly. 

Jamie opened his mouth intent on asking more questions but he caught his wife’s expressions and fell silent. There was tomorrow to ask more questions and Peregrine looked exhausted physically and emotionally. His eyelids were closing shut every few words. He had no strength for their questioning and she would not push his condition any further. 

***

Rin wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by the earth. He no longer wanted to be in Fraser’s cabin or return to Oliver and Abigail and explain what he had done. He was not Baby Fraser. Baby Fraser was a girl named Brianna who was off living in Boston. He was Peregrine. He had no last name. He had Master Raymond and that was all. He set his mind to traveling to Wilmington once more and returning to Inverness. Whatever was there for him in North Carolina had been compromised. Raymond had never wasted months to reveal whatever it was he had to obtain. 

“Your fever seems to have subsided,” Claire said on the third morning. “How do you feel?”

“Fine.” he whispered, unable to meet her eyes. He did not want to look at them and now see the differences. See the proof that he was not Baby Fraser. 

“You are a medic are you not?” Claire said. He had disclosed to her that he had served as one during the First World War and that was where he’d learned _La Madelon_. She told him she was a nurse in the Second World War. “I need more of a description than fine if I am to let you go. How is your throat?” 

“Mistress Fraser I feel as healthy as a horse.” 

“Alright. Are you planning to return to your….he’s not really your Uncle is he?” 

“No and no. I plan to return to Wilmington and to Inverness. I must have misread his clue.” 

Claire placed a hand over his. “I hope you find him, Rin and I wish you the best of luck.”

He had told them that he had thought perhaps that he had been theirs. The revelation was shocking to hear, but most of all, it was evident in his voice that he had truly believed it himself. His Master, who he told them was named Richard, seemed half a master and half a father. He was the only family Rin had ever known. 

She found Jamie tending to Rin’s horse. He looked distracted as he brushed at its white main. She called out to him but he did not come back from his trance. Only when she grabbed at his arm did he jump and return to her. 

“Sorry Claire. I didna hear ye.” 

“Where were you? You looked deep in your own mind.” 

Jamie brushed at the main once more before turning to her. He stared at the brush, “I’ve been a thinkin’ about what he said...about bein’ ours.” 

“Jamie,” Claire said. 

“Claire...he looks like ye and I dreamed of him as I dreamed of Brianna. How did ye explain that?” 

There was a part of her that was unsettled, but how? The sisters had brought Faith’s still body to her. They mentioned no twin. No live baby. 

“He also told us that many time travelers come from the same lineage. We do. It’s how he knew I was also a traveler. We could be cousins or something. And you are connected to me.” 

**T** he Frasers bid farewell to Rin on a particularly warm morning. Jamie kept repeating to Rin that he could stay on the ridge, but Rin insisted he return to Wilmington. Both watched as his horse disappeared into the dense forest. They had prepared him for his journey to Wilmington with provisions and proper clothing. Both felt an uneasiness they did not voice and both returned to their daily chores with a sluggishness they could not shake. If Ian noticed it, he did not voice it to either his Auntie or his Uncle. 

It took a few days for Rin to leave her mind. She forced herself to think of other things and over how the possibility could not be true. Her mind had just settled when she heard Ian say something she had not heard in a long time. A name that made her body tense and tremble. Ian was holding an envelope in his hand. On its front were only a few words in elegant script. 

“La Dame Blanche?” Ian said. The French sounded harsh in his mouth. 

Claire took it from his hands. She could not control the shaking in her hands. “Where did you find this Ian?” 

“It was beside the door Auntie Claire...what…,” 

She did not hear his next question. Open the letter, she told herself, just open it damnit. Her finger tucked underneath the seal, prying it open. Her eyes devoured the page, at first reading nothing at all and then focusing. 

La Dame Blanche,

I most sincerely apologize for a great injustice I have done to you. 

**A/N: I am so happy you are all enjoying this! I have made some edits to the first chapter, a word or two as the story has changed a little bit.**


	10. Chapter 10

**T** hey had set out to Wilmington to chase after a son they did not know had been born. Claire had not let herself believe that he could be their son. She had been blinded by logic and by her understanding of her time in Paris, to truly see. Jamie had believed, seeing a resemblance she could not admit to herself. _Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ_. Peregrine looked like Uncle Lamb and from the few pictures she’d seen of her father. She did not think of them when trying to match his face to others. Why would she? They would not be born for some one hundred plus years, but now that she was privy to the truth of the matter, she could not stop herself from seeing more and more of the similarities. Rin had his father’s height, but he had Lamb’s build, trim and taut. For a man of his size, Rin had both narrow shoulders and a lithe build. 

Why had she not paused to mull over the possibility? She could hear his sore voice admitting with an uneasy chuckle, _“I well I….I thought I mighta been your son.”_ The words pierced at her now. He had looked so childlike and hopeful. She had crushed every bit of that hope with the logicness she was cursed with. It had taken years for Faith’s death to stop feeling raw and revisiting it left her body and soul aching. That time was marked with tragedy. It was not hopeful. It was not bright. And yet, a letter from a man she had thought she owed a life’s debt too, had changed all of that. 

La Dame Blanche,

I most sincerely apologize for a great injustice I have done to you. I wish to use this letter to put forth an explanation that I am certain will not garner your forgiveness or sympathy. Not that I am deserving of such. When I came to heal you in Paris years ago, I found that your womb contained another child, a boy. He came forth into this world illuminated in the aurora that marked him as one of us. He was unbridled potentional.It shined quite brightly and foretold he would be gifted. Gifted perhaps beyond my own comprehension and beyond me. He proved forth to be gifted. Gifted in traveling, gifted in thought and gifted in music. 

When he came into this world, so fulsome I could not resist to abscond with him and see what could become of a child traveler. I named him for what I thought to be his purpose, a peregrinus, a wanderer.I thought to rear him to be an ideal traveler, able to adapt and reform to any period of time as he was to have no permanent place. I never expected to come to see him as anything else. He returned to me such loyalty and kindness. He is one to do something to the fullest or not at all. I beseech that you look beyond his raising and beyond your hatred of me, to see him as I do as a son. I return him to you, for I think I will not see him again. And though it may pain you to relay this to him, I once again beseech you, tell Peregrine that I am sorry and that I loved him, with all of my self. 

M.R. 

P.S. The boy has a tendency to love wholly and fiercely. Try not to break his heart as I have.

She had read the letter and its contents so many times she knew them by heart. She had been pregnant with twins in France. How could she have not sensed it? Not known or felt that somewhere in history her child was lost? 

“We will find him,” Jamie said. They were both lying beneath the pitched canopy of a tent he’d set up. He had sent word to Jenny and to Ian to search for Peregrine if he already set for Scotland. They did not disclose who he was exactly, but had said to tell Rin that his thinking for coming to Fraser’s Ridge had been correct and that he’d be welcomed back. “We willna lose him again.”

Jamie had thought he could be theirs. Why had she not listened to his admission? Jamie had dreamed of him alongside Bree. Bree and Peregrine were brother and sister. She felt another sort of ache forming for the both of them. She had always been envious of siblings. They shared a special bond, one formed by familiar backgrounds and years of closeness. They had been robbed of all of that. When she was pregnant with Faith-no pregnant with both of them, she had dreamed of the children she and Jamie would share.Her mind could not help but to conjure up images of Bree as a child, but this time, she pictured a curly haired boy chasing after his sister, or pulling at her hair or Bree atop his shoulders. She imagined them to be as close and as wilful as Jamie and Jenny.

“Our son,” Jamie said on their first night in Wilmington. His face was alight with wonder. Claire wished she could feel his jubilation and his assuredity that they would find him. They had spent the day asking all sorts of people if they had seen a man of his stature and of his physicality. Either no one had seen him or he was no longer in Wilmington. They hung around the shipyard, asking captains and other passengers disembarking. “Claire we have a son.” 

Her voice was weaker than she would have liked, “we do.”

“Claire ye canna be blaming yerself.” 

“How can I not? I’m his mother-

“Aye?” 

“He was a part of me. I should’ve known that I was missing a child. I should have felt something.”

***

“Why?” Rin asked once more, his voice growing stronger. Out of the eye that he could still see out of, he tracked her movements. She was tall for her age with copper hair and a determined expression fixed to her face. She’d been dutiful in waking him every hour or so to assure that his possible head injury did not cause any further damage. He suspected her urgency in tending to him had been for other reasons. He was a distraction of sorts. For herself and for her chatty maid who asked many uncomfortable questions. The redhead sent her away to garner medicine for him, “why?” 

Slanted eyes stared dangerously at him. “Why leave you on the floor of a tavern? Because I think myself a half-decent person…you-you tried to help.” 

He wanted to voice his objections. What he did was, feebly come to his feet and only managed to inflict more harm. Rin should have looked for any sort of weapon. Or thrown a chair at the man. Or he should not have drunk himself into a stupor and be sound of mind to realize that he was being led into a trap. Could he have been so soft minded, so ruled by the feelings that consumed him that he had lost all sense? Could he have been so weak that he could not save a maiden from a terrible fate? 

“And I did not think in your state that you could harm me,” her eyes fell to the knee that had quilt thrown over it and left alone. Whenever she or Lizzie touched it, he made such unusual animalistic noises that came from a deep part of his chest. And he had not dared to look at the state of it. The thought of his knee conjured up the sound of it popping beneath the Irishman’s boot. “You should see an actual doctor or a healer,”

He did not tell her that he thought it’d been unlikely he could afford one. Bonnett had been kindly enough to leave behind his more sentimental belongings. His gems, the ones he could trade for money or use to travel through the portals, those were the ones he took. He was truly stranded here. 

“Here Mistress, the herbs ye asked fer and I been asking about a boat to Cross Creek.” 

“Cross Creek?” The redhead looked once more at him. For the first time, he noticed the redness of hair, of it was not just red but a mixture of golden and copper. And then he saw her eyes, slanted and glaring. “Are you...Are you Brianna Fraser?” 


	11. Chapter 11

“I did not-I I know your parents. We are acquainted.” He settled on.  _ I briefly thought I was your brother _ , might not have gone over so well. She had Fraser’s appearance and his build, though more femine. If he could stand to his full height, he’d think they’d be shoulder to shoulder. Her expression relaxed. “You look quite like your father.”

“Thank you…,” she could not help the smile that tugged at her lips. “Sir?” He stirred, staring at her from his good eye. “You have not told me your name.”

He had a good nature to chuckle. The soft sounds turned to coughs, then grew to deep guttral sounds. It took him a few moments to calm them to begin to speak and even then, the voice was hoarse and weak, “Rin”

“Rin,” she tested, “Rin…,” 

“Beniot,” He then absolved into another coughing spasm. The coughs grew deeper and more concerning. Though she knew he’d probably think it improper, she snaked an arm between his back and the pillows he’d been propped upon and sat him upright. If only Mama were here. She’d do something more to help him, Brianna thought. And me. She shook herself,  _ stop _ . His cough, it doesn’t sound right. What would Mama do? 

“Were you?” she began realizing she did not have the bedside manner nor the correct terminology to phrase her questions, “was your chest injured?” 

His face was nestled into the crook of his arm. His chest did hurt, but he did not want to burden her anymore than he already had. “No Madame Fraser. I fear it is a remnant of a cold I had. It seems the sickness has not yet vacated my lungs.”

“You are a shit liar.” 

His head jerked up. If his face had not been so grotesque, Brianna would’ve laughed at its expression. The vulgar term fell from her lips before she could stop them. It was an accurate description. When he lied, he both looked down and his voice raised in octaves. Though she suspected ladies did not say those things in this time period. She could remember her mother saying how appalled the Scotsmen had been at her tongue.

“I beg your pardon!” There was a flush creeping across his face and chest now.

“I amend. You are an atrocious liar. Is your chest alright?” She knew her mother would have demanded to examine it, but Brianna thought he might faint at the suggestion of being asked to disrobe. When he first became aware of where he was, he began sputtering about honor and trying to vacate the room. He only managed to shift his legs slightly before deciding that his best course of action was to remain still. 

“I’ll be fine Madame Fraser.” 

“You can call me Brianna.” She did not want to go into the business of correcting him, that technically she was  _ Madam Randall  _ or rather now,  _ Madam MacKenzie.  _ The title burned in her chest, a terrible pain that pulsated. “Madam Fraser is my mother.”

_ And she is not mine _ . He thought. He squinted at her, trying to see if he could see the aurora around her too. He found that it was there, but he could only see it in bursts, before it flickered away. Had his injury taken away his sight? He despaired at the thought. It had saved him on more than one occasion and doomed him on others. He would be lost without it. The sight came to him when he was little. He remembered drawing portraits of himself and Raymond and how puzzled his nursemaid had been at the blue bursts he drew protruding out of the scribbles that were supposed to be his Master. She stared at him, queerly, when he told her the reason for why he did it. She showed Raymond, thinking Rin was daft in the head, and quit when Raymond began to shout in glee at the pictures. Rin could not understand why at the time, but could remember, Raymond lifting him about and spinning around with him. He quite liked the frog like smile that spread across his wrinkled face and always longed to earn more of those jubilant expressions.

“Rin?” Brianna was staring at him.

He had not been listening. Lost in his own recollections, he focused to find that she was holding the satchel that held his belongings. It looked ruffled and dirtied having spent the night on the floor beside him. At his slight gesture, Brianna laid it gently on his stomach. He began to eagerly feel around for its contents, knowing the general shape and amount of things that should be inside.

“Thank you.” The words did not seem enough for the kindnesses she had paid him. If only he could have saved her from the most atrocious event he thought a human could endure. He’d never been much of a fighter. Tall and gangly, he grew and grew and grew, towering over Raymond by the time he was about twelve, but he never grew muscular. Neither had he ever been much interested in weapons or fighting and Raymond had rather he be bookish. 

***

He much preferred the company of Madam Fraser than of her maid, Miss. Wemyss. Lizzie was reading from the Bible to him, though he was not truly listening to it. Church had been something that was infrequent in his upbringing. He had little fondness for the sacred text, but he resolved not to tell her. Instead letting the words drone into a hum as he tried to sleep. His head ached terribly, as a result of his drinking and the damn bastard. The compound of those two factors made him feel as if he was about to burst. 

What was he to do now? He had neither money nor gems to travel from Virginia. Brianna and Lizzie planned to travel to Cross Creek to Lady Cameron and off to her parents. If he returned there, he’d be forced to return to Coventry. Coventry could mean safety and food, and maybe he could locate a gem within its walls, but his pride could not let him face Abigail or Oliver. He’d left them a note asking to not be looked for. He wondered if they ignored it. Or if Abigail had told Oliver what had prompted his departure. Were they laughing at him? At his stupidity? At his impulsivity? 

“Rin.” 

He forced his eye open, rotating it so that he could see the speaker. Claire Fraser stood in the archway of the room, staring as if he was something in a zoo. And then he remembered the state of his being. It was likely his bruises had turned multi-colored by now and he’d lost the ribbon that was keeping his hair tame. He propped himself up on an elbow, hissing and tried his very best to smile, but feared his attempts must have come out more as a grimace. “Hallo,” he felt quite lame in his response, but his mind could think of nothing else. 

She crossed the threshold, her eyes not leaving his face. Rin had never seen her look so transfixed and amidst his confusion, allowed her to wrap her arms around his shoulders. The embrace was warm, and he felt himself sinking into it before remembering how improper that would be. He jerked back and her arms were quick to retreat. She was staring at him oddly, with somehow more intensity then he’d ever seen from her before. 

“What the hell happened to ye?” Mr.Fraser stood in the doorway. Behind him, his nephew who was trying his best to stand on his tiptoes and peer into the room unnoticed. 

“He was robbed,” Brianna supplied, staring at him, daring him not to say anything more about the previous night. “Mama, aside from his eye, his knee was smashed and I think also his ribs were banged up. We’ve been waking him every few hours. I don’t know how you tell if one has a concussion.”

“She has been most diligent in tending to my concussion. You must have taught her well.” 

Claire did not acknowledge his statement. Instead she began to examine him, her fingertips brushing against the tender skin. The touch brought tears to his one eye. Whether it was due to pain or due to the emotions he’d been forcing down, he could not say. Rin tried to turn his head away to hide the tears that were now trailing down his cheeks. He usually prefered to cry alone. Raymond had never much patience for his tears. 

“Brianna,” Claire’s voice was strained. The muscles in her chin twitched. The timbre was barely above a whisper but audible to all those present, “can you excuse us for a moment?” 

Brianna looked puzzled by the request. “Uh sure. Okay.” 

“Take Miss. Wemyss and yer cousin with ye. Ian has coin. He’ll treat you to a drink.” 

Drawing in a deep breath and trying to sit upright Rin said, “you did not need to dismiss them on my account. It is their room…,” Oh good grief. He was in their daughter’s room, in a state of undress. “I should be going...I’ve got a…,” 

Claire put a hand on his arm, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I must be-,” he wrestled free of her surprisingly tight grip, “My lady I am sorry but you must….,” his words dissolved into shrieks of pain as he attempted to shift his way down the bed and away from her. His knee felt as if it were on fire. He bit on his lip to silent himself curling onto his side. The Frasers were saying something, but all he heard was white nose. As he squeezed his eyes shut all he saw were stars. 

“Holy hell.” The first phrases he heard when his mind stopped spinning were uttered by the Scotsman. Rin found in his thrashing, the quilt that had been placed upon his knee had shifted revealing how swollen and odd it appeared.  _ Look away Rin. Look away _ . He had seen his fair share of gore. Limbs blown to bits in the war. Hell, he’d even helped saw some off, but seeing his own mangled knee was bringing the contents of his last meal up to his mouth. Claire had jumped out of the way missing it by a margin.

“Ian take yer cousin and Lizzie and we’ll find ye later,” Jamie ordered. This time there was no objection. The three of them shuffled out of the foul smelling room, leaving behind the three of them. 

“I’m sorry,” the tears were flowing freely now, a mixture of humiliation and desperation. He never thought he’d ever been in a situation of this sort in his life.

“Oh Rin,” Claire whispered, “Rin…,” She looked as if she wanted to reach out for him but thought better of it. “Rin there was a letter.” 

“Wh-what?” 

Claire’s hand found his and squeezed, “I am sorry. I have been told I am devastatingly straightforward…,” his brows raised, “you can ask your father.” Her eyes found Fraser who was slowly enclosing the gap that had separated them. 

“My-what?” 


	12. Chapter 12

**“Y** our father,” Claire repeated though she was certain he’d heard her just fine. At the second utterance of father, Jamie placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. The touch felt as if it were a lifeline, reminding her to keep going forth and that she could not fall apart, not now. Her son needed her. _Her son_. He was their son, Faith’s twin and Brianna’s brother. He belonged with them. He was a Fraser and a Beauchamp, and English and Scottish. “Peregrine,” his full name felt more appropriate at the moment than the shortened version he preferred, “you are our son.” 

He blinked at the words and his hands gathered fistfuls of blanket. He was looking over her shoulder at the wall behind her, not processing what had just been spoken aloud. Her chest clenched as she observed his distress. She felt failure and shame at the thought that she did not know what way to comfort him. Did he desire for a hug? Or for a back rub? Or did he wish to be alone? She knew how to soothe his sister. It was one of the first things one learns as a mother. If he were a baby or toddler, she supposed she could have picked him up and shushed him or tickled his tummy, but this was a grown man. She did not think those actions would be wanted or appreciated.

In a whisper he asked, “may I see the letter?” 

It had been tucked away in the pocket of her cloak. She read it each night of their trip, hungrily searching for anything more it could tell her about her son. And it also drew fire for the man who’d kidnapped him. Each of its words had been branded on her heart and she doubted she’d ever truly forget its contents and yet she despised to relinquish it but she would not deny him. His hands were shaking as he grasped the parchment. 

“¡ _Ese bastardo_ ! _Maldito sea. ¡Maldito sea en el pozo más bajo de infierno! ¡joder! ¡joder!”_

The Spanish startled both she and Jamie. She recognized only bastardo and infierno, but assumed almost all of the words had been curses by the bemused expression on Jamie’s face. That expression soured though when Rin released the letter and began to wildly slam his fist into the wall beside him. He was blind with a raging fury, and across his mostly Beauchamp looking face came an expression that was distinctively Fraser. 

“ _A Dhia_ !” Jamie cried lunging forward and gripping their son’s thrashing arm. Claire knew those words meant something like _dear god_ , “yer going to injure yerself!” 

Damage had already been inflicted. The skin upon his knuckles was bloody and Claire doubted he noticed. He only looked as if he wanted to flee and she did not blame him. 

“Rin I am going to examine your injuries,” she said loudly and firmly. She was suffocating her maternal instincts for her doctorly ones. She suspected he was in a better headspace for those than to be mothered, “and then we shall do whatever it is you wish us to do. Leave, take you back to Fraser’s Ridge…,” she trailed off watching as he tried to steady his breathing. “Firstly, I am going to need to examine your chest. From your ability to move and to yell, I highly doubt anything is broken but anyway, shirt off.” 

He stared at her as if he suddenly did not understand English. How many languages did he know? French and English and Spanish for certainty. 

“My chest is fine,” he hissed. 

“Either ye take yer shirt off yerself or I do it.” Jamie intervened. 

Rin mumbled something underneath his breath that was certainly another curse, but acquiesced to their request, shrugging out of his shirt to reveal a long torso that was a multitude of yellows and red. 

***

And not for the first time she wondered what exactly his relation to her parents was. Every time she tried to ask Ian, either Ian asked Lizzie a question who all too easily laughed and answered or changed the subject. It only made her curiosity grow in leaps and bounds. She could not stop seeing the look upon her mother's face when she left the room. Claire was staring at Rin with such an intensity. Uncomfortably, Brianna, thought it reminded her of how Claire looked at her, especially when Mama was proud of her. She stood suddenly from the table, not listening to Ian or Lizzie calling for her to return. She knocked on the door, identifying herself and then barged in. The smell still clung to the room, making her want to stop inhaling through her nose. Mama was standing while Jamie tugged a rather large linen shirt over Rin. The one he'd been wearing lay in a heap on the floor beside the bed.

"Did you doctor him? Is he going to be alright?"

“Yes I did and with some rest and not using that knee, he should be fine,” Claire said quietly, “but Bree there is someone we’d like you to meet.” 

“Mama, it’s just you and er…,” she was not sure exactly what she was to call her biological father and thankfully, she was interrupted by said man clearing his throat. 

“We’d like ye, to met yer brother.” 

“Brother?” she repeated. Never in any of her mother’s stories had there ever been mention of a brother. An adopted French orphan and a stillborn sister, yes, but never a brother. She tried to catch his fleeting glances. He looked as if he was trying very hard to conceal any sort of emotion and instead looked as if he had needed to use a bathroom. Her eyes flew to her mother imploring she explain.

“We didn’t know,” Claire began, “when I told you about Faith...I was pregnant with twins.” 

“He’s Faith’s twin?” 

“He was born hours after she was…and anyway, it’s a truth we’ve just come to know.” 

Brianna knew there was more to the story, but understood that she’d be told later. To Rin she said, “I’ve always wanted a big brother,” It felt both a foolish thing to say, but nonetheless it was true. She had always longed for a sibling and though she thought it was impossible, she much enjoyed the idea of having a protective older brother. There was a smile tugging at his lips, Brianna could tell by the way they briefly quirked upward. His profile was eerily similar to her-their mother’s. “Wait, _how_ old are you?” 

She did wish to offend him, but she had assumed he was younger than she was. If going by her mother’s timeline calculations, he would’ve been nearly three years older than her. He certainly did not appear to be twenty-six. Maybe twenty? 

“I’m not sure to be honest,” he began to count on his fingers muttering months and years out, “maybe if I had parchment and a quill I could calculate....,”

When he turned to face her, she saw a greyed photo that rested in her mother’s study. The wedding photograph of Henry and Julia Beachump. She had studied it, searching in vain, for some of her own features. She knew the shape of their faces and their smiles well. He looked as if he could be Henry’s brother. How odd, that two siblings should so strongly resemble opposite sides of their family tree. She wondered if Faith could have been the intermediary of her Fraser and his Beauchamp. The piece that people would see and go, _hmm they are related_. 

Ian, who must have been listening through the door, knocked and entered in the same beat. “I was all out of coin,” He said in explanation, tugging out his pockets to show the emptiness. He shifted on his feet, he appeared eager and hesitant all at once. It was evident he was aware of the newfound relation and was losing the restraint not to comment. “So aye?” His eyes were looking from Jamie and Claire, searching for permission. At their nod Ian spread out his arms and cried out, “cousins!” 

***

“No, I do not wish to stay in Wilmington,” Rin said loudly. They had thought he was sleeping, as they conspired what to do next. The Frasers, Jamie and Claire, whirled to face him. Their faces softening into pity. He did not wish for pity or their loving looks. He had thought or felt they could have been his parents and he’d been crushed by their denial and yet he was still not content by the knowledge that he was their son. A part of it, he reasoned, was that he did not know how to be anyone’s son or brother or cousin. He felt once again his heart thundering in his chest. How does one learn these things? What does he call them? 

“The journey will not be kind to your knee.” Claire said. 

“And what of the men who attacked you?” 

Rin watched the way Brianna’s shoulders tensed at the mention. Biting on his lip he stated, “it was _one_ man and I doubt with the gems he stole from me that he is lingering in Wilmington.” 

The answer did not seem to sedate Jamie Fraser. He was a soldier and a fighter, one could tell by the ferocity of his being. “Did ye get a good look at him?” 

“No. I fear it was dark and I was quite into my cups.” It was not true, but he could not relay the true details of his encounter with Bonnet, for Brianna’s sake and for his own. It would be the first secret, he mused, that they would keep as siblings from their parents. The thought warmed him. He had a sister. _Two sisters_ , he reminded himself, _I was supposed to be a twin_. Was he still a twin? Faith had been born still, but that could surely not change their relation to each other. “I’d rather return to...to Fraser’s Ridge.”


	13. Chapter 13

**R** in was dreaming one of his old nightmares. Upon its start he knew almost immediately that he was dreaming, and despite him knowing this he could not wake himself up. The familiar sounds of battle raged around him as he found himself in what he thought could be the offensive on the Italian border near the end of his service. He was viewing it as if he were an observer of events instead of a person reliving them. _ Do not approach the tent. Turn around. Stop Rin stop _ . His dreamself was determined to continue on the path, narrowly dodging the stream of bloodied soldiers being carried on stretches. His gloved hands found the flaps of the tent but before he could hoist the tarp upward he heard his own name being called out to him. 

Claire had not been asleep when she first heard the thrushing. She woke Jamie at first fearing a feral animal was circling too close to their campsite but instead found the banging and the haggard breathing was coming from the wagon. 

“Rin!” she called out as she climbed atop the wagon. “Rin wake up!” 

Sherry-colored eyes blinked back at her. His hair had been dampened by the humidity in the forest and by his own sweat. His face was ashen and his mouth hung open as he seemed to recollect himself. Jamie was standing by the wagon looking to her.

“I’m sorry,” Rin whispered. 

“Tis alright,” Jamie assured, “are you alright?” 

“Peachy,” he responded though he looked anything but. If it was Brianna who had woken up with a nightmare, Claire knew she could coax the matter out of her with some time. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” 

Rin, who had his hands palming the wooden floor, smiled furtively at them and shook his head, “the truth is I do not even recall what it was that I was dreaming about.” 

Jamie looked to her as if to say he’s lying. Claire acknowledged it with a slight quirk of her brows. If he’s lying, she thought of trying to convene it on her facial expression, you can ask him about it. They had spent nearly a day traveling before settling down in a thicket of woods some miles outside of Wilmington. Aside from responding to questions about his levels of pain, Rin only offered them one syllable response or an array of shrugs and head shakes as answers. The only one he gave some answers to was Brianna. 

“Alright,” Jamie said evenly and their newfound son laid back on the tent and shut his eyes, ending any attempt at further conversation. She took Jamie’s hand and tugged him along hoping they could find some safe distance to talk privately. 

“He’s less talkative as our son than he was as Comte Benoit who came to us thinking he was our son,” Claire remarked when they were far enough from the campsite to see it, but too far to be heard. 

“Something spooked ‘im,” Jamie declared looking back over his shoulder, “did ye hear what he was rambling about?” 

“I was too focused on trying to get him awake then to listen.” 

“I think we needa give the lad more time,” Jamie said, he squeezed her hand and leaned to place a tender kiss on her temple, “I canna get past the resemblance he bears you. Our son and our daughter. They are gifts you’ve given me. I am blessed Sassenach.” He kissed her fiercely then, his arms pulling her close to his chest. She let herself remain there listening to the thundering beating of his heart.

Through the trees streaked the reddish glare of the early morning sun. Atop the leaves that lined the floor of the forest were droplets of due. Claire doubted either she or Jamie would return to sleep and instead decided to gather buckets of water and other necessities before traveling again. When she returned to the campsite, Claire found that Rin was asleep once more. His features relaxed, and a grin upon his face, as if to say  _ I take after my father too _ . Claire beckoned Jamie to the wagon, and gestured to the expression. Rin stirred but did not awaken. The metal objects that had been clasped in his hands fell to the bottom of the wagon. Claire recognized them as the dog tags used in World War I. Her father, Henry’s had a permanent spot in the study of her townhouse in Boston. Belatedly she realized that Henry and Rin had served in the same war. There were two greenish tiny circular tags and her hands reached for them without thinking. Her fingers ran over the grooves. 

_ Peregrine Allard _ ,it read and underneath was his battalion;  [ Chasseur ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chasseur) battalion of the 127th Division. She handed it to Jamie, explaining what it was in a hushed whisper. The second dog tag had another name,  _ Leonard Pétain _ , also of the 127th division. Why was he in the possession of both tags? Had this been a lost comrade? Was the Great War what he had been dreaming of? 

“Leonard?” Jamie mouthed. 

Claire shrugged returning the metal circles back onto the wagon, suddenly reminded that there was an immensity of things she did not know about her child. And he was certainly not making it easy to get to know him with his lack of verbal responses. 

***

“ **W** hat are you doing?” Brianna asked. 

They had been traveling for nearly a week. Claire had been right, the trip was horrendously painful for his knee, despite her attempts to stabilize it. Each bump in the road or slight change in pacing of the trotting of the horses caused him pain. Rin felt quite useless when Jamie and Ian had to gingerly hoist him from the wagon and lay him against a tree stump as the rest set up camp, pitching the tent and gathering firewood. In his increasing need to do something he’d reached for his journal and began to write down all he knew about the Fraser family. He was trying to conjure up the names of Ian’s siblings, there seemed to be a countless number. Each story introduced a new one. Above their names he’d written  _ Murray cousins _ . He hardly permitted anyone to glimpse at his journal and maybe it was because she was his sister or that he knew of a secret she was trying to keep or that he desperately wanted her to like him that he turned it so that she could see it. 

“You’re taking notes?” she smiled and without being asked to or invited plopped herself onto the dry grass beside him with her skirts flirting outward, “you’re going to make me look bad.” 

“Sorry. It’s just I write when I’m…

“Thrown for the biggest shock of your life? See, when I found out I threw a fireplace poker into a window.” She grimaced, “and it wasn’t even my window. Can’t say it was my finest moment. Mama tells me it’s the Fraser temper,” 

He held up his bandaged hand to her, “She told me the same while she was bandaging my hand...after being confirmed of the truth, I just started to punch the wall, again and again.” And then with a thoughtful shrug of his shoulders he added, “Jamie called me an idjit. I’ve never heard the term.”

“I think it might mean idiot in Gaelic, but you’d have to ask.” She frowned then, “do you know other languages?” 

“Yes. Spanish, French, German and a fair portion of Latin,” His journal was an amalgamation of the first three in addition to English. Sometimes if he wrote in a state of exhaustion, the sentence would begin in Spanish and end in German. It made re-reading and translating a bit of a headache. “I find that to be one of my talents. Master..,” and he felt sadness and anger welling in the base of his throat, “ _ He _ called me a parrot, for the manner in which I copied the language and speech patterns of those around me,” he closed his journal, “what about you?”

“I sort of know French. Tu parles Français ?”

“Oui, très bien. Aimez-vous la langue?”

The words flew smoothly from his mouth, the way they did for a native speaker. Hers always came out slowly and pronounced harshly. Claire was fluent and for years tried to be insistent on days where they’d only speak in French. It drove Frank mad and as Brianna grew to be twelve, she fought back against it. There was something inside of her that warranted her to make things harder for the mother she felt was sometimes a million miles away. 

“Je l'aime bien,” 

The next bit of French came too fast for her to translate.Brianna held up her hands, “High school Spanish! High school!” She handed him back his journal, “have you ever traveled to the 1950s or 1960s?” 

“I have not. I was in the 1980s for a pretty long while.” 

Her eyes widened at the thought of the future. She was desperate to ask more questions about it. What did the cars look like? Were people living in space? Something in his face quieted her inquiries before they fell from her lips. Everyone, Mama, Jamie and Ian, were walking on eggshells around him. She did not like the way her mother hesitated in speaking to him or the way her hands trembled when she went to examine his injuries. She had been trying to think of a way to bring it to his attention without offending him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, deciding it was the gentlest way to breach the topic. He titled his head at her, “I mean you’re ignoring everyone around here. And I get it. We’re strangers to you, but we’re your family and you can talk to us,” She drew her knees up to her chest, “ I get it. Or at least half of it. I grew up thinking another man was my father.” 

“I am not trying to make anyone else uncomfortable,” He blurted and his voice trailed off. His fingers brushed the tall grass breaking off bits. It crunched underneath his irontight grasp, “it is an uncomfortable truth,” He released the blades of grass and they flittered to the ground in an unorganized heap, “I….,” he found himself lost for words. He used to consider himself a wordsmith of sorts, knowing so many in all of his languages and being an avid reader. They all seemed to fail him now.

And just when he thought the conversation was lost, his sister spoke again, changing altering the subject, “how did you know? That Jamie and Mama were your parents? Mama told me you came to them,”

“It was the aurora,” Upon her perplexed expression he elaborated, “all travelers have it. It's this light blue orb that illuminates from our cores. Claire has it. And when I saw her in Wilmington, it was so familiar,” he pulled more grass from beside him, “it looked like the way Raymond described mine.” 

Brianna was staring at him, mulling over his confession. “Does mine look like yours and Mama’s? I have it right?”

Rin felt the warmth rushing to his cheeks, “I uh...I have not been able to see them as of late, but I’m sure yours would be quite similar.” 

“Well you’ll have to tell me when you heal. Rin, please talk to our Mom. She is truly a wonderful woman. Wise and straightforward and loving.”

“Alright. I’ll….I’ll try,” 

“Good.” 

***

“What would my name have been?” 

The question came a few moments after they had re-started their ride. Jamie had the reins, with Claire sitting beside him. Ian and Brianna were a few paces in front, atop their own horses. Jamie had been silently appraising his daughter’s riding ability, marking both her strengths and weaknesses. Rin was in the back of the wagon, clenching onto the wooden sit and rotated his body so that his head was looking towards them and out at the trail they were trekking on.

“If...you know...you had named me,” his eyes were looking away. Claire could tell the question had been one he’d been thinking about for a while, “I do not think you would have named me  _ Peregrine _ .” 

“Ye truly donna like that name,” Jamie teased, “weel’ I suppose Brian huh Sassenach? Brian is fer my father,” 

“I named Brianna for Jamie’s parents, Brianna Ellen,” Claire explained.

Rin looked at her, a hard expression spawning over his face, “well what are your parents’ names?” 

“Henry and Julia, but they were names we did not wish to use,” she answered, “are you wishing to change your name?” 

“Well no,” Rin said, “well maybe not right now. My first name, though I do detest it, has always been something that remained the same. My surname changed as needed, to adapt and to survive, but it is good to have a real surname. A true surname, with a history and blood to endear me to it.” 

“Aye ye do. Yer a Fraser.” 


	14. Chapter 14

“ **H** ow are the crutches?” Claire asked. 

Upon their arrival home, Brianna was insistent they craft crutches for Rin. It was in high spirits that she took out paper and began to sketch how they could best build them with the resources available at the ridge. She created an axilla crutch, the type that goes under one’s armpits, and Jamie began to cut down the bark needed. Rin was hoisted up by Ian and by Murtagh for his measurements and turned a fair shade of red at the attention he was receiving. The project brought a light to Brianna’s eyes that Claire had not seen in her since before their reunion in Wilmington. Roger’s decision to leave her was one that was echoing in her mind and raw, but there was something else. 

“They’re wonderful!” Rin proclaimed showcasing his new independence by pacing across the deck. He’d been quite embarrassed, needing Jamie or Ian to take him to the outhouse or to do anything that involved moving. He seemed to be flighty and twitchy with an insatiable need to be moving kinetically at all times. Claire had fashioned a splint to immobilize his knee and his other injuries were slowly healing.

“Hmm. It is good to see you mobile again. Rin, may I ask you something?”

“Anything,” He kept his pacing up, plodding to one edge of the porch to the other, growing in speed. 

“The night Brianna found you,” his pacing halted then, his shoulders rising and tensing. She did not like the visceral reaction but kept going. She and Jamie suspected that their children’s story was not it in its entirety, “how did she come across you? And how was she when she came across you?” 

The shoulders dropped then and shuddered. Fingers danced along the handles of the crutches. His reaction was stirring something in her stomach. She approached him, and as she stepped closer she heard him heave in a deep nosy inhale as if trying to stop himself from crying. Would a hand on his shoulder be unwelcome? She reached for the shoulder, not caring if he pulled away from her or not. What else could have happened that night?

“It is not something I wish to speak of again. Excuse me,” His voice was uneven as he said this. He maneuvered his crutches to the edge of the steps and began to hop down. In the midst of his attempt to flee back to the smaller dwelling he seemed to realize his abrupt departure may be upsetting and turned to look at her now that his facial expression was composed and the only indication that he had been crying was the lingering redness of his eyes, “I must beg for your apology. That was rude of me Cl..,” his voice trailed off. He avoided saying their names or their parental titles, instead indicating Jamie or Claire by initiating eye contact or gesturing. The sole person he seemed to be comfortable with was Brianna. “It is just I do not wish to betray my sister’s confidence and if there’s anything the-

“I think she’s pregnant,” And all of the color that remained in his face drained away. Claire was not sure why she had voiced the suspicion she’d been keeping to herself for some time. Maybe it was that Jamie and Brianna were some distance away hunting bees. She could hardly tell Jamie that his unmarried daughter could be pregnant, the Scot would surely implode with the notion. Rin seemed a neutral ground, on Brianna’s side and too polite to voice any sort of negative opinion about his sister. 

Rin looked to have been petrified,the tips of his crutches digging into the mud and his mouth quivering into a tight line. In the days since Wilmington, the bruising on his face had begun to heal and the eye that had been swollen shut was now visible in a narrow slit. 

“You should talk to her,” He said finally, moving a pace toward the cabin. The motion was hindered by the mud that was caked to the bottom of the crutches, making him take baby steps. 

***

For a man of his size, Jamie Fraser had the ability to move in a cat-like manner. Rin did not hear him approaching so the sight of his father startled him into jumping and nearly losing his balance in the process. There was something in his face that looked feral and though Rin had seen him to be a kind loving man, this was a soldier, a once wanted Jacobite and dangerous. 

“Why dinna ye tell us?” The question was quiet, but within it lurked a raging fury. There were many things he had not disclosed to them, but he knew, by the look in the man’s eye that he was referring to Bonnet and to Brianna. “Why did ye not tell us?” 

Jamie took a few steps closer. Rin fumbled for his crutches not wanting to be sitting for this conversation. He knew the answer.  _ Because I am ashamed I could not protect her.  _ That was the root of it, though he promised her he would not say anything. He had mulled over that night, each night before bedtime. Her screams echoing in his head and then as Bonnet stomped on his knee and something heavy hit his head, then the voices muted themselves until they faded away. 

“Jamie,” He did not know what to say and the pain gathering in the pit of his stomach was one of intermingled regret, bitterness and shame. He could not protect a maiden and that had wounded him on that night. It caused even greater pain now knowing that it was his little sister. “I’m sorry.” 

His crutches fell when the larger man seized him by the collar. Rin balanced on one leg watching the vein in his head bulge. And then Rin was released, the force of the motion sending him onto his arse.  _ Get up Rin, get up _ . He pulled on the crutches and used them as leverage to stand. The motion was awkward but he had to face this matter on his feet. 

“I tried to help her...I was too drunk…too weak,” His mumblings drew a confused look. Had Brianna not told them that it was the same man who attacked Rin? That he was in a stupor on the floor when she walked in asking about a ring Bonnet had? Had she only said that he knew about the transgressions that had befallen her that night? He added again, “I’m sorry.” 

“What the devil are ye on about?”

Rin licked his lips and forced himself to meet the slanted eyes. He had to confess this, even if it meant angering Fraser more than he already was. He should have told them the first night. “I was in the room,” Fraser’s eyes closed then, his fist which Rin noticed was bloodied was opening and closing, “I was in the room and I had already taken a beating...they took my gems like I said….but then Brianna came in…I tried. I’m not much of a fighter. I’m sorry. I do not know how to fist fight. I’m not strong…,” his words were becoming mumbled with each hasty breath and he knew what he wanted to be saying but the words were not understandable. 

A part of him wanted to be punched again, to taste blood, to repent from not being able to save someone from such a vile act. From what little Rin knew about his biological father was that Jamie would have killed the man or died trying. He did not receive his desire. Instead, Fraser turned on his heel and disappeared. His large form disappearing into the trees that surrounded the ridge. Rin wished he could run, run after him and plead for forgiveness.  _ Please, don’t go. Please, please, don’t leave me _ . He would never catch Fraser, not in the darkness and not with his crutches. He felt his breathing become hitched and the wheezing began. The last time he’d succumbed to this kind of antics was on the morning he realized Raymond had gone through a portal without him, leaving behind a satchel of notes with endless directions. 


	15. Chapter 15

“ **R** in,” Claire dropped the basket she’d been carrying. She had been determined to do something with her hands and her idle thoughts. Brianna too wanted a distraction and happily volunteered to help with the wash. And though the sun had just risen, she was up gathering all of the wash she could find, which was why she entered his room.He was sitting on the floor of the cabin staring out at his feet. It took a few callings of his name and a grabbing of his shoulder for him to jerk back into focus. The sweat that lined his face had dampened curls to his forehead and he was shaking. She sat beside him, staring at him for an answer he was unable to give.

Panic attacks had been a long misunderstood medical occurrence. They labeled it hysteria or possession. They prescribed cocaine and other strange medicines. It was only in her time that they were truly studying it and the stimuli that caused it. He opened his mouth to speak but the words came out painfully between breaths. She held up a hand and modeled the 5-2-5 breathing method, taking a deep breath with your diaphragm for five seconds, holding the breath and then exhaling it for the next five seconds. He stared at her but obeyed, his breathing evening and the color returning to his cheeks. 

“Do not talk right away,” Claire said, “give yourself a few more breaths to slow your heart rate.”

To her utter surprise, Rin turned to her and flung himself at her. His bony arms pulled her tightly and there was something primitive in this hug. Its actions were childlike and suddenly she was reminded of Bree being woken from a nightmare searching for her touch to feel comforted. She reached for him, reminded of the last words of Raymond’s letter. _He loves wholly and fiercely. Do not break his heart as I have_. She hugged him back hoping he’d understand. 

“Thank you,” he whispered before he pulled away, redness warming his cheeks, “thank you.” 

“Rin…you can talk to me,” she said, not wanting to release him. She took to giving his hand a tight squeeze, “has this….has this happened to you before? Not being able to catch your breath?” 

“A few times,” he admitted, “though it has not happened in a long while.” 

“It’s called a panic attack. They affect all sorts of people and sometimes especially people who’ve seen traumatic events...soldiers-

“I’m not a soldier!”

“You served-

“I was a damn medic. I didn’t fight. I carried soldiers, brave men from the trenches and I cleaned their wounds and bandaged them,” 

“And you do not think a medic’s job requires courage? Or forces one to confront the harshest of events? Rin I was a combat nurse in the Second Great War. It is not easy to maintain one’s composure or find the courage to hold a man’s hand as he bleeds to death. It takes a different sort of courage all together. And I too faced moments where my brain relived the war. It is perfectly normal.” 

“What about Jamie?” 

Jamie? What did he have to do with any of this? She had noticed their awkwardness and their stiffness. Conservation did not flow easily between them. They had yet to discover something that linked them together. There had been a bond forming between Brianna and Jamie, from days spent hunting bees and shooting. All physical activities that Rin could not yet join in. She and Jamie had seemingly taken on an agreement. He’d try to reach Bree first and Claire would connect with Rin.

“Does he get panic attacks as you call them? Is he so weakened by his own self that he struggles for breath? Is he rendered motionless?” His voice was raising again and Claire feared he’d work himself into another attack, “would he let someone be raped?”

There it was. The truth of the matter that had ignited his panic attack and the reason Jamie had taken to the woods with Ian to hunt though they were not in need of any game. There was a hard look on his face. One that was begging her to say _No, Jamie would not_ and confirm what Rin must have been thinking about himself. Claire had not realized that he had been comparing himself to Jamie. How could she not realize it? When he asked questions that were so geared towards who his parents were as people? Ian was only happy to oblige telling stories of Red Jamie with Murtagh adding in events that Ian had not heard about. Brianna had told her that he’d been writing things down. She wondered if all of those exploits had ended up immortalized in his writing.

“You were there that night?” she asked. Her only response was a miserable half-nod of the head. “Were...who..was-

“The same man, yes. I..got up to try to do something,” he said. 

Claire knew there was much she could tell him about Jamie. Her thoughts are dangerously circling around Black Jack and Jenny and Wentworth. She had told Brianna of the matter, but somehow, it was different with him than Bree.Could it be she did not trust him? 

“Peregrine. It is not your fault-

“But Brianna….,” 

“Does not think it’s your fault either,” Neither Claire nor Rin had heard her approach. She stood at the doorway, her arms folded across her chest and her eyes appraising them, “I never thought it was your fault. Hell, I thought you were passed out from drinking when I walked in. Now I have had enough of watching this pity party, now up, off your asses. We’ve got things to do.” 

It took a few moments but Rin came to his feet and he joined them by the washing bins. They fell into an easy rhythm lost to the movements and to the sounds vibrating from within the trees.

“Who was your first kiss?” Brianna said suddenly.

“Why..,” Rin said slowly, “would you want to know that?” 

Brianna fixed him a raised eyebrow and Claire hid a laugh behind a shirt, “I just want to know more about you. You have kissed or been kissed haven’t you?” 

“Her name was Elsebeth von Holmstedder, I was 13,” 

“Rin and Elsebeth sitting in a tree...K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Bree began to sing loudly. 

Rin turned to look at Claire, evidently he’d never heard the teasing rhyme before. The affronted look on his face was quite amusing. She’d seen one in a similar vein from Jamie when Jenny teased him. 

“She’s your little sister. She has years of being a pain in your side to make up for it.” Claire did not know if Brianna realized what she was doing, but she felt eternally grateful to her. “And Bree, he too has years of teasing and pulling at your pigtails,” 

Brianna appeared not to hear the bit about teasing and hair-pulling and instead began to chant the song in its entirety. To hush her, Rin cupped water in his hands and tossed it at her. 

***

“Did you say something to Rin last night?” Claire asked as she pulled back the quilts of their bed. Jamie had returned to the ridge in the midst of Bree and Rin’s water fight. At the sight of him, the splashing stopped and Rin grew quiet. No amount of teasing from Brianna or stories from Murtagh could bring forth his attention or force him to speak.

Jamie’s back was to her, but she thought by now she was fluent in reading the movement of his broad shoulders. She could see them tense and then slowly release. 

“Nae. I dinna say anything,” He turned, his arms coming to rest in front of his body. “I couldna’ think of what to say. Claire he was there-

“Already banged up,” She cut in, “Jamie he is not you. He is not a fighter.”

“But a healer like his ma,” Perhaps he understood their son better than she had been thinking. She could not help but to add _like Raymond_. She was not the one to teach him how to identify which herbs could be used in medicine or how to tend to a cough or how to splint a broken arm. He did not spend hours watching her read medical textbooks or be used as a prop to identify bones and muscles. 

“He’s...he’s...he looks up to you Jamie. And when I found him this morning he was in a state of panic…..he thinks he’s let down both you and Brianna.” 

“Me? I wasna the one hurt.” 

“No, but he thinks you would’ve not let it happen. That even if you were beaten bloody you would have found a way to stop the attack.”


	16. Chapter 16

Upon Claire’s rather fervent looks and silent urging, Jamie sought out their son. Finding him sitting in the grass staring up at the stars peeking through the trees. It was a hobby he seemed keen on.It was a good night for stargazing as the moon was a waning crescent. Rin seemed lost to his stars, eyes wondering the zenith of the celestial sphere, breaking contact to only return to his fevered scribbling. The leatherbound book seemed to be his most prized possession and a treasured safe haven. Jamie knew many men who took to writing in journals, but he himself had never been keen on it. He did not enjoy writing much, having been forced to use his right head instead of his left. Scattered around him on a sheet was a sextant and a compass.

“Ye are cackhanded,” Jamie said without preamble and without thinking.

“I’m a what?” Rin asked looking up at him from beneath a fringe of curls. His face had become guarded and hard. He must have thought the word was some sort of insult. 

“It means ye use the left hand,” 

Rin lifted his left hand, quill still clenched between his thumb and his forefinger, “Master Raymond would not let my tutors force me to use my right. Said to let me be and worry about teaching me other things.”

“I wisha my Da had seen it that way,” Jamie sighed, “my handwriting is damn near unreadable.”

“Your left-handed,” Rin coughed, “I mean cackhanded too?” 

“Aye. Seems to be one of the only things ye get from me. Weel that and you have the height of my mam’s family.” 

“The MacKenzies right?” he asked shyly.

“Aye. May I sit with ye?” Jamie was already lowering himself to the ground before Rin could say anything at all. The leatherbound book closed with a snap and it was placed defensively on the side away from Jamie. “I didna mean to upset you the other night.” 

“She...she told you?” There was a flash of hurt in those topaz eyes soon replaced by anger as he inhaled through his nostrils. It seemed when baited enough that Rin too had a rage boiling within him. Jamie knew how to handle anger. He knew how to handle Brianna’s outrage at not fighting against her attacker. This, this he could relate too. 

“She only told me because she was verra worried about you,” he knew Claire would be very angry with him if he stirred up trouble between her and Rin. There was trust being formed there and it would be severed if Rin thought Claire was telling everyone about his weaknesses, “She’s yer Ma and I’m yer Da. We dinna keep secrets about our bairns,” There was the flare of the nostrils again and Jamie smiled.

“Please  _ sir  _ do indulge. What of this conversation is so amusing to you?” 

“You,” Jamie replied, forcing his lips into a grimace, but it was useless as they kept quirking into a smirk. He could see that his comment was not being taken well by his son. Before he could explain himself,Jamie asked, “why is it you stare up at the stars so much?”

In asking his question he hoped to understand his son’s hobby. It meant something to him. 

“The stars have always been there….when I traveled I mean. In each century or decade or time we ended up in, I could always count on seeing them. So, wherever it is I go, I try to plot out a star chart,” Rin fumbled for his journal, flipping yellowed pages until he came across the one he’d been plotting upon. He held it up for Jamie to see. In the darkness and without the aid of his glasses, Jamie could not see much of it, but he nodded anyway and voiced awe at the sight of it. That seemed to be the right thing to say for his son’s face lit up. He began to point out the constellations above them and how they looked different in Europe or how when he went forth to the future even past Claire’s time he could barely see them. 

“Ye ken a lot of stars,” Jamie told him when Rin sputtered off seemingly running out of his knowledge of constellations and of planets. Rin uttered something that sounded like a yes or an affirmation of sorts. “Rin...ye needa not worry about matters with the man who attacked the both of ye Ian and I took care of it.” 

“You went to Wilmington?” Rin asked.

“Nae. He came here looking for Brianna,”

That did not make any sense at all, Rin thought. Stephen Bonnet was a Captain. He and his crew were docked in Wilmington. “Stephen Bonnet came all the way to Fraser’s Ridge?”

Jamie’s face whipped around to face him as if he’d been burnt. Any sense of certainty oozing away from his features replaced by an expression of confusion and terror. 

“Was it Stephen Bonnet who attacked ye?” 

“That’s what he said his name was,” Rin said with a shrug, “I suppose he could have been utilizing an alias. He was a fair haired Irish bloke in his thirties.” 

Jamie let out a string of words in uttered Gaelic. By his body posture, the rigidity of it and the look upon his face, Rin could assume there were curses and nasty ones. Jamie stood and as if he were a soldier told to march, marched around the perimeter of the landing. Rin found his crutches hosting them upward and using them as leverage to come to his feet. He began to follow behind Jamie, unsure of whether to disturb the Scottish cries. The pacing and the need for sharp unexpected turns made it impossible for him to follow in the exact route. 

“Jamie!” he yelled, “JAMES ALEXANDER MALCOLM MACKENZIE FRASER! Dear god in heaven stop your damned pacing! What is troubling you?” 

“I think I mighta sold the wrong man to the Indians.” 

***

“Bree?” Rin whispered as he peeked his head into the tiny barn. Lizzie shrieked and pulled the sheets up to her chin. “May I come in? I shall avert my eyes,” 

Lizzie moaned something into her sheet that he assumed must have been a no. Bree laughed at the sound and from her bed she pulled a shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders. She followed him out, leaving Lizzie to compose herself. Rin was starting to wonder if it was not only Ian that she had been developing feelings for.

Shaking those thoughts out of his head, he turned to Brianna, “can you tell me what your Roger looks like?” 

“Uh, sure. He’s got dark skin, he’s Scottish, but a Black Celt. He’s got bright green eyes but they’re deepset like Da says all the other MacKenzies have. He’s our distant cousin actually,” She said a whimsical look in her eye. From her voice he could tell that his sister loved this Roger. From her description he could tell that this was the man that Jamie and Ian had beaten bloody and sold to the Indians,  _ shit. _


	17. Chapter 17

“Where is Roger?” Brianna demanded entering the cabin. Rin stood behind her. His eyes found Jamie and looked away. Rin had been unable to tell Brianna the whole truth, but she had managed to get him to admit that he thought Roger had come by the Ridge. It only worsened matters when Lizzie confirmed it, avowing that her attacker could not harm her again, “Lizzie and Rin told me that he was here. Where is he?” 

“I thought Roger went back.” Claire said as she adjusted the items on the table. 

“I thought so too, but he didn’t, did he?” Her voice was like ice, piercing the still stale air that was motionless in the cabin. Her eyes were focused upon Jamie, her nostrils flaring dangerously and her eyes narrowing, “What did you do to him?”

“Your hand,” Claire said. 

“It’s true isn’t it?” Brianna whispered. 

“I think I’ll uh wait outside,” Ian said suddenly.

“Come, lads,” Murtagh intervened. 

“No he stays,” Brianna demanded, “He was involved in this too, weren’t you  _ cousin _ ?” 

Jamie’s godfather still marched to the door, sensing the fighting match that was due to ensure. As he went to pass Rin, he put a hand on Rin’s shoulder and urged him towards the door. Rin tried to see if Brianna wished for him to stay but she was not looking at him. Instead he followed behind Murtagh, a man, whose weathered skin and rather eerie smile unnerved him. Murtagh had eagerly embraced Brianna. He knew about her. But Rin, he seemed uncertain of. In turn, Rin avoided him and his beady eyes. 

“Trust me lad you dinna want to be in there for that,” 

Rin forced himself to look the man in the eye. Though he was taller by a good six inches, Rin felt small underneath his glare, “I do wish Jamie had sought me out before he fought Roger. I could have identified whether he was the attacker or not.” 

“Weel’ Jamie didna ken that you ken that did he?” 

“No. He did not.” 

From within the confines of his coat, Murtagh withdrew a flask of the Scottish whiskey Jamie had been brewing. When he offered a swipe to Rin, Rin accepted, though he had no taste for whiskey. And he nearly choked on the substance as it burned his windpipe and warmed his chest. The gesture seemed to please Murtagh. This time when he smiled more lines formed around his eyes. Rin took another sip, ignoring the urge to choke it back up before handing it back. From within the house, muffled voices grew louder in fury.

“You shouldna go back in there lad.”

“My name is not  _ lad _ .” It’d been the only term Murtagh ever addressed him with. He was not a boy. He was not exactly sure if he was nineteen turning twenty or twenty turning twenty-one but he was most certainly not a boy. 

“Aye I ken. Your name is  _ Peregrine. _ ”

“Aye,” Rin affirmed, “My name is Peregrine Fraser.” 

It was the first time he’d ever said that aloud.  _ Peregrine Fraser _ . It’d been in his thoughts for days and scribbled into the signatures of his journal entries. He’d been trying to get used to the sight and his newfound identity. He had a name and a history. He had not yet the courage to voice what he hoped could be his middle name,  _ Henry _ , for Claire’s father. The one he’d been told he resembled. He wondered too if he could adapt Beauchamp as a second middle name. He had an ancestry now to honor. 

A deep affirmative noise came from the depths of Murtagh’s throat. Claire explained that those throaty noises were something she called  _ Scottish noises _ . No, she did not know how or why they made them, but every Scottish person she had ever encountered made similar ones. He best get used to them, she forewarned. In the quiet moments, when he was alone, he tried to make similar ones, but it seemed his ability to mimic speech patterns were limited only to speech. Instead he was trying to focus on Gaelic, trying to recognize words that came up more than once, but it all sounded gibberish to him. 

From the house came loud muffled voices. By their respective timbers and accents, Rin knew them to be Jamie and Brianna’s. Shouts were followed by crashing of plates. The sounds making him flinch but they seemed to have no effect on Murtagh who was enjoying another sip of his flask. Rin took the offering, gulping down three larger sips. This time the burning sensation was a welcome one.After his fourth gulp, he decided he needed to return to the cabin. This was his family.  _ His sister _ . Upon re-entering the cabin, he found them discussing the tracking down the bloody Mohawk and trading all they had. All the way to damned New York if they had too.

“So we’ll go faster,” Brianna declared.

“Not wi' a lass wi' child among us. Or a man who canna ride,”

Rin was thinking of something else entirely. The journey to New York would take months. Brianna was already nearing her third month of pregnancy if he had the math right. “If you all go to New York and back, that’ll be about four months or more of traveling.” 

“Bree? You haven’t decided…,” Claire whispered her eyes falling to Brianna’s midsection. 

“I have,” Bree’s hands came to rest on her stomach, protectively, “I’m keeping it.” 

He was coming to find there were more and more aspects about Brianna that he admired. Her tenacity was among the top things. Others including her ability to get him to laugh or to talk about himself and her ability to not make a room seem so quiet. She was a unique woman. Rin was silent as she declared that she’d love the baby whether or not it was his husband’s and when she decided Claire must accompany Jamie and Ian to find Roger. 

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Claire was saying when he focused back on the ongoing conversation.

“I’m not alone. I’ll be with Lizzie and Rin,” 

“I’m not leaving you, Lizzie and Rin here alone,” Claire turned to face him, “with you on the mend, if there was an attack or a wild animal I do not think…,”

“I get it,” Rin intervened, not wanting to hear her voice that she thought wasn’t strong enough to defend his sister and Lizzie. He appreciated that she acquated it to his current state,instead of his overall persona.

“Well then think of something else.” 

“River Run,” Murtagh cut in, “I can escort them to Riverrun. I ken Jocasta from Leoch.”


	18. Chapter 18

**_~L_ ** _ eonard  _ _ Pétain was a man who was acutely aware of the stares he procured from the fairer sex.He was well-built, with broad shoulders and retaining a height of nearly six feet. His skin was generally a medium shade with a hue of olive, especially so after long exposures to the sun. His hair, which fell in waves, was between a brown and black and underneath certain lights one could see the russet undertones. His eyes, a stormy mixture of blue and grey, had a mirth to them as if he alone was privy to some joke. The sole feature that seemed to mar his fine face, was a rather large mouth, only truly noticeable if one were to catch him smiling or truly laughing. But those moments were rare as he had trained himself into making a half sort of grimace in moments when one was needed to smile.  _

_ He was the last person on God’s green earth that Rin ever imagined happening upon Riverrun, mainly because Rin had thought Leonard had been left for dead in a tent in the middle of the Great War.~ _

_ *** _

“The sound,” Jocasta Cameron instructed, “comes from the back of yer throat. Again,”

His throat was beginning to ache terribly from the Scottish lessons. They had been occurring twice a day, once in the early morning and another at night. Rin was finding it harder and harder to maintain his French accent and learn Scottish, but alas, he was still masquerading as Rin Benoit here in Riverrun. The truth would be hard to explain, and Jocasta had already known him as Comte Benoit. The letter, which had been penned by Jamie, explained that he was now Claire’s apprentice having been expelled from his Uncle’s home for improper behavior towards his alleged cousin. They left the fictional sordid details out, allowing Jocasta to come to her own natural conclusions. 

His mouth struggled once again, his lips seemingly not forming the shape needed to produce the sounds that would be Gaelic. She tsked, and sipped on her mulled wine. He was turning out to be a poor student. He was certain she would stop teaching him any day now as he made no progress. The lessons had only begun because she heard him in the parlor attempting to say some of the curse words that Ian had taught him. She demanded why he was pacing the perimeter of the rug uttering in gibberish. He was both shocked and thrilled when she proclaimed that she would teach him. The more time he spent with her, as grouchy as she could be, he realized that she must be terribly lonely. 

“Tis enough for tonight.” She stood from the sofa, her crinkled hand wrapping around her cane. 

“Are you free at last?” Brianna asked a few moments after the sound of a cane thudding upon wood had muted itself. She was wearing her night shift, her hair tied with a ribbon and the slight protruding of her belly now stood prudent without a corset. She held a damper of wine in her hand and glasses for the both of them in her other. In the days since they had arrived at Riverrun, they had taken to a nightly game of something Brianna called “two truths and a lie.” The objective being to sort out what was fiction about oneself. It had begun demure at first but ventured into deeper topics. It was a way for them to get to know one another as siblings, she said. If they had grown up together they would have known all of the information anyways she reasoned. 

The slight color in her cheeks told him that she had a glass already. From her fingers he took his glass and the wine. They cautiously ventured to her room. It would be improper if anyone were to know of their nightly games. Something Brianna scoffed at.  _ You’re my brother, why must we keep it a secret? She’s your Auntie too!  _

He settled himself upon her windowsill as he always did. When conversation grew quiet, he’d stare out at the immense lands or he’d watch the comings and goings of suitors or slaves or servants. He’d usually narrate the arrival of Brianna’s many suitors to her amusement with exaggerated descriptions of their physical nature. 

“It is your turn Rin,” Brianna was sitting upon the vanity chair, in such a mannish manner. Her long legs were straddling the sides and she was resting her chest upon the back of the chair. She was right, but he had not yet thought of what he was going to say. She had a particularly hard time deciphering his lies as his life held the most fantastical truths. 

“Alright,” he said, “I was once initiated into a cult by mistake,” She nodded for him to continue, “I was acquainted with the grand English bard, William Shakespeare,” And he could not say for certain what made him say his truth or why it’d come bubbling out now but he forced it past his voice chords and into the room, “I was in love once,”

The lie concerned Shakespeare. It had always been a long held dream to travel to the Elizabethan Era and meet him. He begged Master Raymond but Raymond dismissed him with  _ why would you want to meet that old bore _ ? Brianna’s lips were pursed. She sipped at her wine, looking to his face. He shifted his gaze to the lawns below wishing her not to see the angry blush that was sprouting across his face. 

“I think you would be the kind of person to accidentally join a cult,” She said, “and I do think you might have met Shakesp…,” 

The look upon his face must have told her that she was mistaken in her thinking. She was staring at him, her dark blue eyes imploring him to explain. “What happened?” 

“Well…,” he began, “I guess I should say I was in love twice,”

Their names circled around in his head. Both so distinct in their matter of being. For one they were of different sexes,  _ Amelie  _ and _ Leo _ . Leo had exacerbated life, bringing forth ordeals and adventures in plenty. Amelie had been quieter, living on the fringes with a careful eye for detail and scandal. When he had confessed his truth he had been thinking of Leo who had been a comrade and a brilliant source of comfort in the depths of the trenches.

“Twice?” 

“Er,”he laughed, forcing another gulp of his wine down, without tasting its contents. He knew she was persistent and tenacious and would not let the matter go. It was for that reason he said it and it was for that reason he’d regret saying it at all. “I left them behind in the Great War and in New Orleans in 1853 respectively. My time allowed for only short dalliances but I fell for them,” 

Brianna stood then, placing down her glass. She wordlessly came to him and wrapped her arms around him. It was a simple hug, but one that meant so much. He was reminded of the morning Claire had found him, how he launched himself at her. She must have been perturbed but he needed at the moment was touch, a lifeline. And between them, he felt a connected sense of loss. His for Amelie and Leo and hers for Roger. Each night he prayed for the man’s safe return, for Brianna and for the babe. Though both Claire and Brianna thought otherwise, Rin was inclined to think like Jamie, there needed to be both a husband, and a father. The mark being born illegitimate would haunt the child for all of their days.

When she released him, he no longer wished to speak of his lost loves or love at all, prompting her to give her truths and lies. They played three rounds more, the statements being naive in nature, safe. 

“Goodnight Bree.” 

“Until tomorrow night.” 

Though he had become proficient with using his crutches, opening and closing doors were still tricky. He rested upon his good leg and dragged his knee and other crutch past the doorway. With some shifting of his waist he was able to shut the door softly so as to not disturb her. A clearing of a throat made him look upward to the fine face of Lord John Grey, the English Lord Jamie had sent to look after Brianna. The look upon his face was silent questioning.  _ Shit _ . Rin thought. If his lordship brought this to Jocasta’s attention he’d be facing serious consequences.

“This isn’t what you think it is!” he squealed wishing his voice had been firmer. The high pitch indicated guitliness so he was told. Grey’s eyebrow raised up indicating that he should proceed, “we were not doing anything that would disgrace ourselves,” and belatedly he added, “your lordship. We were just talking.”

It sounded lame to his own ears. He certainly could not say that they were playing a game while drinking wine. That would sound worse. The silence and the appraising looks were growing too tense for his mind to think of a way to worm himself out of it. His thoughts were racing and going absolutely nowhere to be helpful.

“I am a physician,” he began finding the words as he spoke, “I was just tending to Miss-Madam Fraser.”

“Is she alright?” 

“Oh  _ oui _ ,” 

“Pray tell me, what was plaguing Mistress Fraser?”

“A plague of the stomach, your grace.”

The answer seemed to please Grey for he made a hmm noise that almost sounded positive. Grey shifted himself to provide room for Rin, who bowed in the only way he could, a half sort of bow. In his haste the crutch underneath his good arm fell to the ground. He felt himself flushing as he watched the Lord retrieve his crutch. 

“Thank you, your grace,” 

The next words came out as a whisper. “I know you are Jamie’s son,”

“Oh.” 

“He explained in his letter that you were lost to them for some years. I was elated to hear that you have found your family, but,” Grey bounced on his feet, his eyes looking to Brianna’s door, “until a time comes when you are publicly announced as a Fraser, I would not recommend visiting your sister’s chambers in the middle of the night. It would generate unwanted questions.”

“Right.” 

“Goodnight then,” 


	19. Chapter 19

**A** t first, Rin was not sure why he was awake. Peering at the window showed that it was sometime near sunrise, but no strains of light had descended upon Riverrun just yet. And then he heard his name, first as a whisper and then louder. He rubbed at his eyes, feeling sleep blurring his vision and glare around his room until he found the offender, Brianna. The color of her face was ashen and the hair that had been tied into a ribbon was escaping at all angles. She looked spooked, though unharmed.

“Bree? What is it? Are you alright?” And suddenly he was searching the room for an unknown attacker.He pulled himself up onto his elbows and into a sitting position. Using his good leg, he hooked his toes underneath the crutches he kept at the bottom of his bed and dragged them towards him. As he moved, Brianna came to sit on the edge of his bed.

Though her lips barely moved, Rin thought he heard her confess to seeing something. Her blue eyes were dark and staring at him as if he were supposed to garner the meaning of her frightened expression. Unfortunately, his abilities were limited to time travel, sometimes astral projecting and some rather limited healing abilities. Telepathy for all he knew was something of fantasy. Raymond claimed to be many things but never able to read anyone’s minds. “What did you witness?”

Had she stumbled across a crime? Or a dead body? He was trying to be gentle with his questions but he needed to know what it was that had her so shaken. He’d vowed to both Jamie and to Claire and to himself, that he would not fail to protect her. If she had something of a malicious nature, he needed to know if she’d been seen or someone wanted to handle this in a private matter. 

“It was Lord John,” 

The English Lord who knew the truth of his identity. The one who Jamie trusted enough to convey deep truths and to ask to look in on Brianna. Rin was uncertain of what to make of him. Mostly, he wondered how his Jacobite of a father who loathed England came to befriend and trust somebody who was the epitome of English. And then again, Jamie did marry his mother. 

“I-I stumbled across Lord John and another man,”

The confession forced him to search her face for any sort of the usual reactions. _Disgust, revulsion_ . It was the same in nearly every time period he’d come to. Instead her expressions stayed the same, a neutral sort of surprised one. They had both heard Claire speak of Lord John-soldier, nobleman, diplomat and both expected him to be much more imposing than the fine boned Englishman who entered their Aunt’s home. Brianna had expected him to be taller and Rin had thought he would be older, of an age with Jamie. He had a charm about him, telling stories of traveling and about the boiling political situation in Virginia. And apparently he had inclinations for the same sake. _Did he not speak of a late wife_? Rin had thought he had heard John allude to her. 

“Did he see you?” Rin asked.

“No….I backed away and left. Neither of them did. He was _with_ one of my suitors!” 

“Well at least we know one suitor to take _off_ the list then,” 

She stared at him, perhaps not finding his attempt at humor to be funny. And maybe it was not truly comical, but he was not expecting to shock her back into silence. Though this time she appeared less frazzled and was slowly growing more content. 

“Bree? Are you alright?” 

“Oh I’m fine,” She said, her voice light and airy.

“Were you disturbed by the act?” He was choosing his words carefully, trying to mask his own interest in her answer, and trying to sound not to blaise about the matter either. Brianna shifted to face him, her eyebrows piercing together.

“Shocked? Absolutely, but not disturbed. What?” 

She must have seen the smile growing on his features at her statement. He could not bring himself to admit to her the secret he held closest to his heart. Instead he distracted her, “Lord John knows...about me I mean. That I’m your brother. Jamie told him…” 

Jamie had been a taboo subject. The mention made her sit rim rod straight and climb off the edge of his bed. She had not spoken of what had occured in the cabin the day it was decided they were to come to Riverrun. He knew not to push her, though he hoped she found it in herself to forgive him. It had been an accident. A rashness of a father avenging his child. Though, Rin relented, selling someone to the Indians was an extreme measure, but at least Roger had not been murdered. Well-if he was murdered it was not by Jamie’s hand.

“We should not be keeping you a secret,” she said evenly.

***

Brianna’s visit had left him with a restlessness that would not let him return to slumber. Instead he dressed simply, in a white linen shirt and breeches of dark grey. He did not bother with a waist coat or a kerchief. He was not expecting to see any other occupants of note awake at this hour. As he stalked the halls, he gingerly placed weight upon his knee. Claire had left detailed notes about what his recovery should be progressing. She had left them with Brianna and Brianna had been diligent in reminding him that in a week’s time, his knee would be able to bear his weight and they would begin the exercises to strengthen his knee. He detested the eager look in her eyes when she said this. He did not want to imagine the tortuous exercises he’d be forced into doing. 

He had wandered down a long hallway into an area of the manse he had not been in. He stared up at the oil painting on the wall, wondering who the beady eyed gentleman in the picture could be. Surely, Rin surmised, he must be a Cameron, for he looked nothing like a Fraser. The man was adorned in military regalia. “You are an ugly bastard,” he told the painting. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

He had not heard the door beside him open and the sound of the voice made him jump. The speaker Lord John Grey. The sight of him made Rin feel odd. He knew such an intimate secret about him, one that could ruin him and little else about him.

“My apologies, your lordship,” Rin said and then feeling very embarrassed admitted that he had been talking to the painting. 

Grey smiled, “talk to paintings often do you?” 

“Only the particularly ugly ones.” 

The jest earned him a snort. 

“Would you honor me with a game of chess?” The invitation came unexpectedly and Rin felt himself staring at him in question. Why would he want to play chess at this hour? 

“Your father and I have a sort of tradition per say of engaging in chess matches. I thought you…,”

“Jamie enjoys chess?” Rin found himself imaging his large father sitting at a chess table. His face scrunching up in frustration and his fingers nearly crushing the pieces with the mere might of himself. He could see Jamie hosting the table up in frustration and sending pieces of black and white flying. 

“Very much so. And he is in truth a better player than I. Though there have been a few occasions where I have triumphed over him,” 

“I have not had the opportunity to play in a long while,” Rin admitted, “though Master..,” He stopped noticing Grey’s eyebrow quivering at the mention of Master. Rin was in no mood to attempt to explain Master Raymond. He had been trying and failing to reconcile the man as his kidnapper. The thoughts made his heart feel hollow and long for the nearest flask of the liquid that was supposed to be Scottish whiskey, “I was told that chess is a good lens in which to view a man’s character.” 

“Hmm,” Grey seemed to be thinking over his words. 

“I will accept your invitation, with a promise,” Rin said conversationally. Grey’s pale eyes stared at him expectantly, “you will inform me at the conclusion of our match, who is the better player, me or my f-father.” 


	20. Chapter 20

**P** eregrine was a different sort of chess player than his father, John observed. While admittedly out of practice, the rules and the strategies had seemed to spring forth in his mind. Jamie, while playing chess, was animated in his chess movements, spending little time to ponder over the move. In contrast, his son was methodical and agonized over each decision. In that matter, Lord John, supposed he was more like his mother. He certainly took after her in appearance. His mere existence had come as a shock to Grey. The explanation spoke of the Bastille and Claire being gravely ill and a baby being taken from a hospital in France. It seemed a ludicrous story, but again, it was Jamie Fraser, so Grey had believed every word of it. His heart pained once again at the thought that this was another child Jamie had not gotten to raise. 

Jamie’s letter, as they sometimes tended to, gave forth information John had never known while simultaneously beseeching him to do something. In this scenario, it was assuring the safety of his children.  _ I have now been charged with the care of all of the Fraser children _ . He realized,  _ Dear Lord help me _ . 

“Checkmate,” John pronounced and found himself staring at a scowl. 

“I suppose Jamie is the better player,” 

“The more experienced player for certainty,” John acquiesced, “it would be a match of wits and experience should you be granted the opportunity to play in the future.” 

His words had not meant to bring tears and despite Fraser’s attempts to duck his head and hide his eyes beneath the fringes of his unruly hair, Grey saw them forming on the edges of his lids. Grey obtusely knocked his knee into the table, sending a knight and rook to the floor. He let them roll until they stopped before excusing himself to grab them. The action allowed Peregrine to compose himself and when Grey turned his eyes had been wiped clear. 

“I do hope,” Peregrine began, “I get the opportunity to play chess with him. Jamie, I mean. He and I are very different. It could be something

The last words came interwoven with bitterness. The amber eyes were staring intently at the remnants of the game, maybe imaging a distant match with his father at the Ridge instead of here with Grey. 

“Mr. Fraser,” Grey started and then found the words of advice or to console were not coming to him. Though he did find Peregrine’s head snap up at the mention. 

“You can call me Rin,” he said scratching behind his ear, “Mr. Fraser is Jamie, my f-father.” 

It was the second time Grey had heard him stutter over the word father. Grey could not imagine what it was to reconcile one’s upbringing with the truth that one had been taken as an infant. Surmising from his general intelligence and by the manner that someone had taught him to read and play chess, that his guardians had not been wholly neglectful. Maybe the boy still held affection for them and that was why he was struggling with Jamie’s parental title. Invasively, Grey wondered if the boy called them Jamie and Claire or Mama and Da as Brianna had. Grey wondered how old he truly was. He had one of those faces that could look both older and sterner but also had a boyish aspect. 

“Rin,” he tested, “I know that you were made aware that I was asked to come here to-

“Look in on Bree,”

“Yes but to also look in on you,” Grey said determinedly, “his letter spoke very fondly of you. He described that you were a physician in the same caliber as your mother. I cannot fathom any higher praise. While her methods may be strange she has yet to fail in them to my knowledge even in the most dire of circumstances.” 

Before Rin could say anything in response to the confession, Jocasta appeared. The knocking of her cane informed them of her arrival and Rin turned from a person curious about his father into  _ Comte Benoit _ . His voice adapted an impeccable French accent and his mannerisms changed into the confidence that his alleged position granted him. Jamie’s letter had said that they had not informed Jocasta that she had another grand-nephew. The letter plainly stated  _ tis better not to ask _ , though John desperately wondered the reason behind it. Jocasta announced it was time for lessons and the pair departed. 

“Lord John, would you be so honored as to accompany me on a tour of the grounds?” It was Brianna, dressed appropriately for the weather, in a cloak and with mittens

“The honor would be mine.” And he rose from his seat and offered her his arm.

****

The Scottish lessons went in the same horrid manner as they usually progressed. His throat ached once more. He was considering asking her to just teach him the written form of the language and be done with the matter of the spoken. Perhaps he was at capacity with the ability to learn a new tongue. The reprieve in the lesson came with Ulyssess announcing the arrival of someone new, a Lord whose title Rin did not hear. From the twinkle in her eyes, Rin assumed he was yet another suitor vying for Bree’s hand. 

“May I present Lord James Wyatt?” Ulyssess said.

The man was not Lord Wyatt. Rin recognized him immediately by the proud strides in which he took. The man was Leonard P étain.  _ His Leo _ . Leonard Pétain was a man who was acutely aware of the stares he procured from the fairer sex.He was well-built, with broad shoulders and retaining a height of nearly six feet. His skin was generally a medium shade with a hue of olive, especially so after long exposures to the sun. His hair, which fell in waves, was between a brown and black and underneath certain lights one could see the russet undertones. His eyes, a stormy mixture of blue and grey, had a mirth to them as if he alone was privy to some joke. The sole feature that seemed to mar his fine face, was a rather large mouth, only truly noticeable if one were to catch him smiling or truly laughing. But those moments were rare as he had trained himself into making a half sort of grimace in moments when one was needed to smile. He was the last person on God’s green earth that Rin ever imagined happening upon Riverrun, mainly because Rin had thought Leonard had been left for dead in a tent in the middle of the Great War.

Unwanted images and sensations flooded him. The warm blood staining them both from the bullet wounds that had pierced Leo’s chest. His breathing ragged and coming in haggard gasps. The sounds emerging from those lips and the fluttering of the long lashes. He’d been a dead man, that was what the officers had said, and they’d screamed for Rin to return, but Rin could not leave his body there in no man's land surrounded by dead horses and barbed wire that snarled maliciously. So he crawled on his belly on wet mud and rocky soil, not noticing that he was tearing at his own skin. Nor did he realize he’d been grazed in the left arm by a bullet while dragging him back to the safety of their lines. He felt for the scar underneath his left elbow, as it began to ache fiercely once more. He longer wished to be sitting here in the parlor or in Leo’s presence. Instead he longed for bed and for the solace he’d find with his journal and beneath the quilts. 

Gripping the edge of the sofa, he propelled himself onto his feet. His knee surged and atop his toes he began to limp towards the stairwell away from the way he watched Jocasta and Leo walk. His grand attempt to escape was halted by the impending stairs he’d have to climb. He grabbed onto the bannister and rested on one foot. 

“Rin?” Bree and Lord John had returned from their walk. One of her hands was bare a familiar sapphire ring rested on her pinky. She rushed forward, “what are you doing? Where are your crutches?”

_ Escaping _ , but he could not say that. 

  
  
  



	21. Chapter 21

_ I love you, please hold on _ . Had he actually said those words aloud? In the merging of memories, Rin could not remember if he had said those words or only thought them. If he had said them, had Leo heard him? Leo’s eyes had been fluttering open and shut, the lids seemingly too heavy to remain open. Was he aware of anything at the moment other than the pain he was in? How the bloody hell did he survive that? And since when he was a time-traveler? None of it made any sense at all. He turned landing so that he was now on his back staring up at the ceiling above him.

“You’re starting to worry me,” Brianna stated, she was standing underneath his door frame in a new gown. One to formally announce her engagement to Lord John. That was another enigma he needed to dissect as soon as he could tear his thoughts away from Leo. “Should I have someone send for a doctor? Are you feverish?” 

“No.” He whispered. He did not want to incur any sort of tension upon her. She was past the first few months, but he did not want to be the cause for stress. “I’m alright, I promise,” With great effort he propped himself up on his elbows and sat himself up on the edge of his bed. He pulled at the wrinkles in his shirt and smiled at her, “I do not think I am in such a state to entertain with company.”

A red eyebrow arched upward and she tilted her head, “you’re not going to be in attendance for my betrothal announcement?” For a moment she sounded and appeared to be distressed at the thought of his absence. Her lips pursed then, and though it was brief, he could see that there was no true sentiment to her words. She was charming and graceful and she had been able to navigate the other engagements with a confidence he found admirable, “have you eaten since breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry,” He said as his stomach growled a traitorous grumble. He folded his arms across his stomach willing it to stop its noises. Brianna parted with the promise that she would return with food and sweets for him. How had he ever survived without a sister? He found he loved her, in that familial way he’d observed in all siblings throughout his life. He fervently hoped she too felt the same way and that she knew he would do anything for her. It was that realization that made him get up from his bed. He dressed cautiously with fresh linen and plaited his own hair. In the washroom, he splashed cold water upon his face and shaved the reddish brown stubble that had been growing upon his chin.

Descending the steps unaided and with his crutches always took a careful bit of balance and time. As he took his last step and swung forward atop his crutches he could hear the laughter rising from the dining room. The husky voice belonged to Leo and he stood poised to give a toast of sorts. His right hand was gripped around a wine cup. From the cuffs, Rin could see the puckered skin a few shades lighter than the rest of his hand. He’d stitched those cuts, a remnant of a back alley mugging, not too long after he’d met Leo at school. The hand though bloody beneath his and drenched in alcohol was warm and calloused. Rin felt himself flinching at each time his needle pierced the tender skin but the hand remained as motionless as marble. Either he was too drunk to feel the piercing of the needle and the tugging of the thread or he was used to pain. Rin would learn later that the fear of being in pain or being injured was never a deterrent to Leo. The bastard had a death wish, not to die, but to simply spite death in his miniacious antics. And yet again, he had evaded the Reaper. The man was truly a cat, with nine lives. How many do you have left now Leo?

“I will admit I came here to court your niece Mistress Cameron,” Leo was saying, his head bowed toward Brianna, “but alas it seems I was belated in that particular endeavor... I bid you to instead accept this toast. A toast to you Mistress Fraser and to you my Lord, that your union should be a hearty and blessed one.” 

There was a round of cheering and glasses clinking. Ulyssess observant as ever noticed his arrival first, bending down to whisper in Jocasta’s ear. The only remaining seat was beside the fuming lawyer whose name Rin could not recall at the moment. He did not wait to be introduced and instead focused on getting to the seat before Leo could realize he was there.

“May I present  _ Comte Peregrine Benoit _ ,” Ulysses boomed. 

_ Shit _ . No such luck. In the awkward way he’d been forced to, he bowed, really only lowering his head. To his grand-Aunt, he forced out an apology for his lateness and confirmed he had not been feeling well earlier but had made a marvelous recovery. If one would only tell that to his heart which was pounding once more or to his head which felt as if it were spinning endlessly. He was not one to usually order about the servants or the slaves, but he found himself holding up his cup impatiently to be served. He needed liquor to survive this dinner. He did not dare look up until he had downed the whole of his cup and beckoned for another. Once the second cup was emptied, he dared peak up through his lashes at Leo. 

The Frenchman looked befounded, his eyes bluer due to the shade of his waistcoat, were brazeningly viewing him. Had he no sense? His stares would attract attention. If they’d been sitting closer together, Rin would have kicked him. From her seat, Brianna beamed at him, pleased that he had left his room. 

“Rin... _ Comte _ ,” Brianna amended, “have you had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Lord Wyatt of….,” she frowned not remembering the rest of his fictitious title.  _ Hansire _ , he provided for her and she thanked him, “he arrived earlier today,” 

Steeling himself, he answered, “No I have not yet had the pleasure. What brings you forth to North Carolina? Surely Hansire still requires its lord to oversee its books and day-to-day activities?”

Leo licked his lips, recovering from his confusion to answer him coolly, “my steward is more than equipped to handle those matters. I have recently required land here, from a granduncle who had no sons, in Boone county. I wish to establish the plantation to the former grandeur it had underneath my Uncle when he had his health and wits to him before returning to England.”

His English accent was damn near impeccable. His mother had been from London. Cheryl Benedict had been her name. She was never married to Leo’s father, but gave him his supposed father’s surname. She had no love for England and thought it would help him fit in better than to be marked by such a English surname. To the best of his knowledge, Monsieur  P étain had never aided in any way to raise Leo. Rin thought it unfair that she did not see it as dishonor to her that her son did not share her name.

His practiced response. Someone must have prepared him with a story and money and fine clothes for his travel here.  _ But who _ ? Unless he had been here for some time? Or what if he had been a traveler the whole time like Rin himself? Rin could not remember seeing an aura surrounding him, but could his ability have been affected by the stressors of war?  _ Damn Bonnet _ . For his ability to see auras had not yet returned. With each passing day as his other injuries lessened and healed, Rin was becoming more and more certain that he had forever lost that ability.

_ “Et vous, Le Comte Benoit?”  _ And you, Comte Beniot. 

Brianna who had been following the conversation interrupted then. She stood suddenly from her seat, fanning herself and complaining of aches. Everyone in the room focused upon her. Lord John was on his feet, leading her away while allowing her to lean most of her body weight upon him.

“Comte Benoit!” she called, “I require your assistance!”

Sparing Leo one last glance, he began to crutch after them. Lord John was uttering something phased by her sudden illness. Brianna was not listening to him instead she was craning her neck above the Englishman’s head to peer at Rin. His face had been frozen by the interaction, re-imagining the conversation in his head. Lord John laid her on a sofa and stared expectantly at him.

“Examine her!” the Lord commanded with accompanying frantic arm movements and eyes flicking back and forth between the Fraser siblings.

“Oh I’m alright Lord John,” Brianna dismissed his worries with a nonplussed wave of her hand. She did shift so that she was laying upon the pillows that Grey had puffed up for her. “I was pretending,” 

“Pretending!” Grey repeated his voice verging on squeaky, “why would you do such a thing?” 

“To save my brother,” she answered simply, “you are an observant man Lord John. Did you not notice the blood rushing to his face? Or the fact that the last conversation has left him tongue tied?”


	22. Chapter 22

“Are you of unsound mind?” Rin asked as he crossed the threshold that led onto the common balcony. He’d been attracted by the sight of billowing of smoke rising in the night darkened by the absence of the moon. It’s size and smell were vaguely familiar. A scent that used to cling to his uniform though Rin did not engage in the casual smoking. The smell made his stomach feel as if it’d empty its contents. Leaning against one of the pillars of the balcony was Leo, metal lighter gleaming in the shine of the lantern and cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Both hallmarks from the 20th century. Leo was violating one of Master Raymond’s tenants of time-travel. Do not utilize materials that will get you burned or hanged as a witch. 

Leo turned to him lazily, a mouthy grin appearing on his face and a soundless laughter emitting from his lips, “Bonjour Peregrine,” 

He was drunk, Rin realized belatedly. After their rapid exit from the dining hall, neither Bree nor Rin returned. Bree was sleeping off whatever imagined ailment Lord John told them had been the reason for her fainting. In their absence, he must have drunk his share of wine. Grabbing the cigarette was an easy task. It came free from Leo’s grip with little motion. Rin stomped on it watching the amber fade out. 

“Put that away,” Rin hissed eyeing the lighter, “you’ll get yourself hanged or burned or stoned for having such an item.”

Leo snorted, his forehead wrinkling and his shoulders coming up to his ears, “I will tell them that I brought it from France. Zee’ think every odd thing is from France.”

He would have such reckless abandon when it came to arriving in a different time. Had he fallen into a rock circle unexpectedly? He seemed too at peace to have just arrived and one could not masquerade as a Lord without having assistance. Or maybe he’d killed the true Lord Wyatt and had taken his identity. 

“You’re a time traveler?” 

“ _ Oui _ .” 

Rin felt an angry exhalation of breath escape through his nostrils, “did you...were you….how…,” 

“I thought you were dead,” His statement silences Rin’s bumbling attempts at formulating a question. Rin had not given much thought to what people had thought happened to him when he left the war. He supposed they must have assumed he was AWOL. The only person he cared about in his battalion was bleeding to death in a ruddy stained tent.

“Likewas,” Rin replied, “how the bloody hell did you survive?” 

Leo turned to look at him. Grey-blue eyes met amber, and for a moment Rin did not see the usual brightness in them. They blinked and looked away from him. “Your father saved me….Raymond….Why did you never tell me that he was a magician?” 

Rin bit on his lip, tasting blood before responding, “he’s not a magician…,” Leo titled his head silently imploring him to go on, “I don’t know what he is…he’s not my father!”

Leo held up his hands in mock surrender. He shifted from his left to his right foot and reached for the package of cigarettes he kept in the coat of his waist pocket, “you’re not going to turn me in for witchcraft are you?”

Rin did not dignify the inquiry with a response. The spark of the flame lit the end of the cigarette and it returned to the same spot, hanging out of the corner of the left side of his mouth. Rin was not sure why he felt compelled to say it or why it mattered, but he declared, “Raymond is not my father. James Fraser is my father.”

“Fraser?” Leo repeated, “Mistress Fraser?”

“My sister,” 

Then came the devilish half-grin, the half dimple peeking out on his left cheek. “Ah that is where the red tint comes from,” the heat was now rushing to his cheeks. Was he referring to the reddish whiskers that grew on his chin? Or the ones intermingled with the dark brown ones on his chest? Had or when did he notice that? Rin began to squeeze the handle of his crutches willing his wandering brain to return. This was not a moment to be lost to the charms of Leo, “tell me is your Papa as redheaded as your sister?” 

“Enough! What happened after you woke up? How did Raymond find you?” 

Leo removed the cigarette, puffing out smoke, “I do not know. I woke up and there he was, a froggy smile and all. He healed me. With this brilliant light. I felt warm and I could feel them...the holes in me...closing. He told me this fantastic tale of you and him traveling between different time periods and he said I too had the ability to travel.”

“And you believed him?” 

“No,” he was shaking his head violently, “I threatened to shoot him.”

“What did-

“He gave me a letter and said one day I would travel,”

“Why-

He licked at his lips, “there was nothing for me in 1918. So I fell through buzzing stones in cold frost-bitten Scotland and I followed directions.” 

“You followed directions?” 

Leo let his cigarette drop to the floor and stomped on it with his boot. He carefully peeled up the two cigarettes and dumped them into his pocket, “ _ Oui.  _ I can when I want too,” he stepped away from Rin and toward the doorway leading into the parlor, “I am pleased to see that you are not dead. Goodnight.”

***

“You need to do these exercises if you want to be able to use your knee again!” Brianna was saying as she demonstrated another one of the stretches that had been left by their mom. It was easier in their absences to think of them as ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’, even if it was only in his thoughts and in his journal. Brianna’s demonstration was hindered by her growing abdominan, “Mama’s notes say that by this time your knee has been healed, so c’mon,” 

Rin was growing weary of stretching, “why don’t we try walking again?” 

The idea seemed to please her, for she offered him her hands. He felt as if he were a baby being taught to walk. Brianna alternated between letting herself be used as a crutch and from standing in front of him and walking backwards. The exercises had been coming along slowly and excruciatingly but there were minimal improvements. He could now take fifty steps without needing to stop. As they performed their awkward gait dance, Lord John emerged from the house. A smile appearing briefly at the sight of them.

“Do you need our help Lord John?” Rin asked, tugging gently at Brianna’s hands to get her to stop.

The amusement drained from his face. With a gentle gesture of the hand he beckoned them into the sitting room. From the way the Lord was not looking at them, Rin could assume whatever tale he possessed would not be a pleasant one. Had something happened to their parents?

“Lord John, if you have some news about our parents I implore you share it immediately!”

Lord John turned graciously with a minimal shake of the head, “my news concerns another matter entirely,” To the both of them he announced, “they have captured Stephen Bonnet.”


	23. Chapter 23

**B** oth the Lord and Rin’s eyes were fixated upon Brianna’s face. Pregnancy had made her skin even more sensitive and now it seemed every bit of blood was draining from her face. The ruddiness of her cheeks, remnants from a sunburn and her natural coloring, were slowly being replaced by a pallor that worried both Grey and Rin. Rin found himself squeezing on the hands that had been supporting his awkward attempts at walking. 

“Where?” Bree asked, “how?”

Rin spared one look at Grey, who looked as if he were regretting telling them the news. For a man who had ridden to Edenton and back, he appeared impeccable. The only noticeable blemish being the bit of mud that had clung to the sides of his riding boots. His eyes were appraising the pair of them. They conveyed concern despite the mask on his face showing up no emotion at all. Was it the years of being a diplomat or a soldier that made him that way? Or just genetics as Claire claimed about Jamie's ability to hide his emotions. Claire said that she was an open book, her face hid nothing from her family.

Bree had asked him one of the questions he’d been dreading the night before.  _ What made you go back there? To him? _ He wished he said he did not remember. Between his injuries and his intake of alcohol and the ensuing revelation of his identity, his mind could be excused for not remembering the exact events that conspired. Instead he turned from her, to hide both his shame and to hide from her the memories that came back to him. He’d been lulled to Bonnet by a mixture of alcohol and the by the lilt of the Irish accent. His fingers had then brushed his lips as if reliving the brush of chapped lips and Brianna had stared at him with a tilt of the head that told him she was piecing together more than he would have liked. 

“Perhaps,” Grey said, “it would be best we take this conversation inside,” 

“I concur,” Rin replied, hoping to where his crutches were propped up against the bannister of the porch. Without waiting to hear a response from Bree, he began to hobble up and into the house towards the parlor. 

Grey followed behind him, Brianna’s arm enclosed in his. He led her first to the sofa and at her dismissive wave, to a plain wooden chair beneath the windows. Grey at first drew up a stool before thinking better of it. He marched to the doors and closed them, shoving a foot-stool in front of them to prevent anyone else from attempting to enter.

“He was taken to Cross Creek. I was not surmised of how he came to be caught and the charge was smuggling. Once his identity was known, more charges were brought forth,” Grey elaborated. 

Rin listened as Bree and Grey exchanged questions and answers. He was caught for smuggling tea and brandy, this time, but he had a notorious reputation. Said reputation marking him from Edenton to Charleston to Jamestown. An impressive feat considering the rate at which mail or news could travel. The man was condemned to die. Rin was pleased at the notion.

“When will they hang him?” Brianna asked when Rin turned back to their conversation.

“Friday week,” Grey said, his eyes staring at her belly. Underneath her dress, Rin could see an elbow or a foot or maybe a bottom poking out. Its movement was alien-like and though he knew it to be normal, he still could not help but to think, doesn't _ that hurt terribly _ ? Brianna seemed to not notice.

Her thoughts were on another matter entirely as she insisted she be brought forward to see him. He knew she was from a different time. Raised in a place where more liberal practices were implemented, but why the hell would she want to see the bastard?  _ Let him rot _ . As she insisted once more, undoubtedly raising the Lord’s blood pressure even more as he flushed and his lips pulled into a tight line, she placed a hand on top of her abdomen. The movement was of a protective nurturing sort. She must be convinced that the baby was Bonnet’s. 

“Are you coming with us?” Brianna asked as she staggered to her feet. She had that brazen look upon her face, “to make closure?”

“Closure?” Lord John questioned.

Rin bit on his lip before answering, “he attacked me,” He moved the knee in question gently. He could see that Grey was brindling with more questions, “may I let you know?” 

And he sought out the one person he knew he should avoid. Leo was in the courtyard, sprinting back and forth between the cover of the stables. He was bare chested. The torso and back were much the same as Rin remembered. The ghastly remnants of bullets were there, two in the left side of his abdomend, one on the right. They were darkened uneven holes, black in the center and red rimmed around the uneven edges. His movements were familiar. He was completing exercises they’d done in training. Rin paused to watch as he moved, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his back moved in accordance with his strides and the movement of his arms.

They had met at a boys’ school in France. Rin came in the middle of term, dressed in an ill-fitting uniform that hung off his limbs. He’d grown four inches and he was long and lean and unused to the height he possessed. His first days were marked by paddles and by being held back at lunchtime. His teacher thought him dumb for his odd use of French and the gaps in his knowledge of history. Until Leo, his knuckles were permanently an array of purple and yellow and green bruises. He thought he’d never survive. He thought of not going to the school, of hiding in the Louvre or on the trains. They were a modern marvel to him and he was convinced he’d never grow tired of their smell, of their gurgling noises and of the way his body lurched upon starting and stopping.

Leo was wiping at his brow with his discarded shirt, “Rin? May I help you?” 

Rin coughed, “I do apologize for interrupting your exercises.”

“Nonsense. I have concluded,” Leo shrugged into his shirt. Silence enveloped them then. Neither Rin nor Leo spoke for a few moments, “have you come to stare at me or is there something you endeavored to discuss?”

“I desire your opinion,”

Leo smirked then, “it must be serious for you to consider my brash pigheaded opinions.”

Rin did not appreciate the echoing of his own words, “Those words were said in an unfortunate moment of callous bore on part because I feared for our lives.”

“Nonsense!” Leo began to pace forward, “I saved your life! Thrice!”

Rin began to match his pace. The sun was setting behind them. The last tendrils of light were eliminating Leo’s face and Rin could see that he meant what he said. He was truly delusional. “Only because you put my life in danger thrice!” 

The Frenchman shook his head, “you did not need to follow me,” 

_ Yes I did _ . 


	24. Chapter 24

“Well,” Leo uttered after his last statement went unanswered, “tell me what is it that you need my opinion for?” 

His eyes were squinting in the remnants of the sun. Rin could see the golden flecks that were spread around the irises of grey blue. For a moment every thought about Bonnet or visiting him in Wilmington were lost from his mind. He recovered by tearing his eyes away and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his waistcoat and squeezing the linen inside. “There is a convicted man my sister wishes for us to visit.”

“The one who attacked you?” A dark eyebrow went to the hairline as eyes went to his knee and to the fading yellowing purple bruise underneath the eye that had been swollen shut. Was he truly that obtuse? Or had it been their familiarity that gave away what he was thinking about. Pausing in his steps, he looked up to Leo and nodded. 

“Leo I must ask you to keep a secret for what I am about to tell you cannot be told to anyone else.”

Leo huffed but nodded. He could keep a secret. Despite Rin’s pleading and begging, Leo never divulged what it was that had diverted Monsieur Gagnon’s rage. Rin had been sitting in the stuffy classroom in the Parisian heat. He was writing lines once more, pausing to rub at his sore swelling knuckles when he heard the muffled noise of screaming. The door heaved open and Gagnon shoved Leo into the room. He was hunched as if walking upright would hurt him. It took Rin a few moments to realize that the assumption was true. His backside had been graced repeatedly with a paddle. Whatever he had done it must have been truly heinous in the eyes of their teacher. 

With that notion, Rin began to divulge the truth of Bonnet as much as he could without betraying his sister. Leo listened with rapt attention. 

“Do you have any sort of desire to extort some sort of remorse from this man?” Leo said, “do you truly feel the need to see him?” 

“I would be much happier never seeing him again….but Bree wants too,” he let out the breath he did not realize he had been containing. For a moment, he met Leo’s gaze, conveying more than he wanted too. Why had he sought out Leo? 

The Frenchman shut his eyes then comprehending the brevity of what had passed between them. He felt himself sinking. He should have not said anything at all. It was not his shame to be told. 

“He is the father, is he no?”

“She thinks so,” Rin admitted through clenched teeth. Leo tilted his head, “there is a man. A man she loves that she was handfast too. They-they consummated their marriage the night prior to…,” he did not finish the sentence, “I did not protect her that night. I’m her older brother. I need to go with her.” 

“It seems you did not require my advice,” Leo patted his shoulder. The smile that spread across his face was not one that was familiar. It was particularly froggy and there was a warmth to it that was not usually attributed to Leo, “now if you are going to face your attacker,” and his arms reached out to grab at his crutches, their hands briefly meeting, “you are not going to do that upon these,” 

The crutches were taken and Rin rested upon his uninjured leg. He had become rather good at balancing upon one leg. Leo took the crutches and began to walk backwards, the froggy smile turning into a familiar mischievous look. He hoped to retrieve them but Leo took the pair and tossed them. The wooden objects soaring through the sky before crashing onto the ground disappearing into the high thick grass.

“Leo!” he hissed. The sound they had made was not a pleasant one. There was no time or materials or Jamie to construct new ones. Why, why had he sought out Leo?

“ _ Regarde toi _ ! You are standing on two feet!” 

He was indeed standing on two feet. He must have put his other leg down in his outrage that he had placed his knee down. There was still the pain slowly making its way known, but at the moment it was not unbearable. He stepped forward, his arms coming upward to help his balance. 

“ _ Venez à moi _ !”

“Damn you,” he stepped rather painfully into mud, his foot sliding, “I am not a  _ bébé _ !”

“No,” there was muffled laughter that accompanied this as he proclaimed, “you are une girafe. Une girafe  _ bébé _ ! And look, you are turning red!” 

“This hurts you arse!” 

“Come to me then,” Leo planted his feet, “then we will fetch your crutches together.”

Each step he felt both a bit of sharp shooting pain and an assurance of confidence.  _ Only a few more Rin. _ As he closed the gap, he felt shakier and shakier until he stood in front of Leo. Not hunching, he was taller and stared down upon Leo. The grey blue eyes were doing something Rin had never witnessed before. Tears or what he thought were tears were welling up in them. He did not have long to ponder the curiosity when he was crushed into a hug. His chest colliding with Leo’s. At first he was unable to comprehend the French being whispered to him;  _ Je te croyais mort. I thought you were dead _ . They were followed by;  _ Je t’ai enterré.  _ I buried you. The odd confession sombered him to his senses. They could not be caught in this state. As much as he wished to never let go, he grabbed onto Leo’s shoulders and wrenched himself free. He searched their area for any lingering slaves or others. 

“Leo, you need to compose yourself. What the bloody hell do you mean you buried me?”

“They found a body. A badly burned crisp body outside that village. It was wearing your coat. The one with your engraved pocket-knife,” Leo maneuvered so that he was no longer being held by Rin. Instead he Rin’s left arm and placed it over his shoulder, “they thought you went deserted and I buried that stiff. I gave you quite the send off,”

“What? Did Master Raymond-

Leo huffed, “Master Raymond waited until I finished to inform me,”

“Oh,”

They maneuvered awkwardly towards where the crutches lay. Though dampened by the grass, they appeared the same. Leo bent down to retrieve them offering to Rin, with a sort of sad glance. They proceeded in silence, seemingly lost to their own thoughts. They had been mourning each other, Rin had realized, though his period of mourning had lasted for months. Leo had buried him and Rin knew it would go against the order of the Battalion and the other soldiers. They had no respect for deserters, though Rin had not quite meant to disappear. 

“Rin...” Leo began, “you give that bastard hell.” 

“I think I’ll let my sister deliver due justice. She is quite fierce.” 

“ _ Oui _ ,” he said in agreeance though Rin was certain their interactions were limited to formal dinners, “Rin…,” He had something to say.The way his eyebrows met in the center of his forehead told him that. They had reached the stairs that led up to Riverrun. Leo moved so that he was standing atop the first step, his arm resting on the bannister, “I am glad you are not dead.”

Rin felt the heat rushing, “I am glad as well,”

“Good night.” 

***

The conversation left him feeling electric. He climbed up the stairs to his chambers at a dangerously fast pace. He nearly collided into Brianna. She came to an abrupt stop in front of him, her eyes squeezing shut as she waited for impact. He managed to stop himself. For that he was grateful because it would be quite an event for either of them to get to their feet. She opened one eye and then the other.

“Where are you coming from?” she asked, “you look happy,”

“Oh I uh came from riding.”

Her lips twisted into a smile, “Riding? Hmm,” She pulled the top piece of parchment from her pile handing it to him. It was a sketch of the estate at sunrise. A long finger came to point at two figures.  _ Himself  _ and Leo walking back from their walking exercises. Deep blue eyes stared at him, “you were close? In the war?” 

“ _ Oui _ ,” he handed her back her parchment, “I met him at school,” His voice was becoming steadier, “he inspired me to enlist….,” 

“Is he a good person? I mean did Master Raymond send him for a nefarious reason?”

Rin licked at his lips, “I have not determined what his true task is for coming here, but I do not think he means me harm.”

“Good,” she announced, “I would love to talk to him,” 

“Why?”

“So he can tell me embarrassing stories about you,” she said as if it were the most simple explanation in the world.

“Bree,” he said in a weak attempt at protest. A change of subject came to him easily, “Assuming the offer still remains, I will accompany you and Lord John to Wilmington.” 


	25. Chapter 25

_ “Pretty boy? Come back for more _ ?” Bonnet’s voice echoed in his head, “ _ ah lassie, you were not my only that night,”  _

Neither Brianna nor John in the chaos that concluded in a jailbreak and an explosion, had asked him what Bonnet had meant. Lord John looked upon him with a comprehension Rin did not wish him too. Lord John’s preferences had been known to Rin for some time now, he had not dared speak of it in his presence or hint to it.There was no one save for Master Raymond and Charles, the only boy he’d kissed, and maybe Leo who knew the truth of what he was. He much preferred it that way. 

It was not that he was shamed by it. Though a part of it was longing to solely lust for women, to be more accepted by all sorts of societies in all timelines. It was the danger it so inherently came with. He was used to danger. Danger of being a time-traveler, of having to lie through one’s teeth to fit into a place that was not yours. He did not need any other danger that could lead him to the noose.

“Rin,” Brianna breathed, “did he hurt you?”

Trying to maintain any bit of dignity he still possessed, he sat up in his seat and attempted to laugh, “Bree, you know that he did,” Rin gestured to his face and moved his leg. Her eyes stared at him, saying what he knew she was thinking,  _ you know what I mean _ , “no and we didn’t….we didn’t do what he said….it did not led to that extent,” 

_ It would have, had Bonnet not found the gems _ . A voice reminded him. Lord John was shuffling beside them. His fingers were playing with the insides of his coat pockets. The conversation was unnerving to him. This was a topic that was not spoken about in front of siblings or in front of others. It was meant for the privacy of bedrooms or special halls or back alleys. 

“I like women too,” 

“Oh,”

Would this be the sort of thing to create a wedge between them? The sister he knew he already fiercely loved. Their shared identities as time travelers and genetics had bonded them in a way he did not know possible. He wanted to reach for her, but feared she would wrench herself away. The carriage continued on, lurching over uneven grounds and at a speed that did not seem to match the feelings and tension that rested inside of it. 

“Does your family know?” 

They had halted to relieve themselves. Rin had stayed near the carriage for the pretense of protecting it from possible vandals, though they had not glanced at one person on the road. John had returned first, hoisting himself over tall grass and avoiding patches of mud. The clearing they stopped in had drenched grounds and was more of a marsh. In the distance one could hear the rushing over river currents. For a moment he wondered which river it was. And spent his time alone trying and failing to conjure the map of North Carolina to his head. He was most unfamiliar with America. His question halted John’s delicate movements. His back became rimrod straight and his lips pulled into a tight line. His bright eyes flashed dangerously. And Rin wondered if his mouth had once again gotten him in trouble.  _ You are incredibly intelligent Rin. Quick of wit and capable of deep reflection. If only your mouth waited for your brain to catch up _ . Amelia had told him that after a rather disastrous dinner party where he managed to insult not just one Baron, but a Lord and a Countess. 

Grey brushed the nonexistent dirt from his breeches and released an angered breath, “I am not going to pretend that I am unaware of the knowledge that comes brindled with your forthcoming question, though I dare hoped that your sister would have been more discreet in that I have avowed to keep the sanction of our betrothal to dispel any other suitor,” He was now straightening his cuffs, “The answer to your question is, I do not know though I would suspect my older brother has an inkling,” And then he let out soft hmm sound as if mulling over it once more, “my mother is an acute woman.I would not be surprised if she too suspected.”

“And Jamie and Claire they know?” 

“Oh yes.” The Lord shifted his glance away for a moment before proceeding, “I do not particularly wish to involve myself in yet another Fraser affair, but, as I am currently betrothed to your sister I feel I am entitled to bestow upon you this...your father is a man of conviction. Steadfast in his beliefs. I caution you, if you do tell him, proceed carefully,”

“He reacted harshly to you?”

“Yes but I do relinquish there are complexities present. I can see you are thinking of more questions to ask but I beseech you to keep them to yourself out of respect for myself and for your father. I part with advice that all men of our nature must adhere to, be cautious. In who you trust and in who you allow yourself to be with.” 

Rin did not speak the rest of the journey back to Riverrun. His thoughts stayed with the warning that Grey had bestowed him with. It was yet another way to separate them. How could a man who gave half of himself in genetics, leave solely only his height? And being left-handed? Which for most parts of history that he had the opportunity to reside in, was ridiculed at best and thought of to be the sign of the devil at worst. 

***

At the sight of her, he felt an unnatural amount of glee accompanied by relief. _ She’s your mother, you dult, you’re supposed to be pleased to see her _ . Her pale skin had turned a shade of brown and dirt clung to her skin, to her skirts and to her hair. There were no visible injuries and she walked without any sign of injury. She had not yet spotted him. He was standing in the far corner of the porch, half-hidden by a rather round column. He watched for a few seconds more before removing himself from the post. His gait was still a laboring force of progress. Prone to awkward loud steppings, Claire looked up from her footing. A hesitant smile graced her face. It was his turn to now be observed. He could see her mind watching each of his strides and though he’d grown to loathe people watching him walk, he did mind her watching. They met in the middle of the porch, both seeming to want to embrace each other, but unsure of what exactly it was the other would be comfortable with. Matching sets of amber eyes kept each other’s gaze.

“Rin, you-you look well,” Claire said feeling as if her words were lame and stupid. Before she left they were building a relationship and that had been stunted by their abrupt leaving . And though it had been under duress of a panic attack, she still thought about the way he’d clung to her, for comfort and for support, all of the things a mother was innately able to supply, “have you been doing your stretches?”

Rin snorted, “Bree is rather forceful. She would not let me rest a damned day,”

Claire smiled and hummed her approval, “it was either do the stretches Rin or risk never regaining mobility of your knee or walk again,”

A dark eyebrow rose and a head tilted, “you call this mobility?” He balanced on his one leg,moving his knee to the limited rotation it would allow, “and you called that-that walking?”

She did not want to laugh, but she did, “perhaps an awkward shuffle would be a more apt name.”

Rin was smiling again but then the smile faded as he glanced out behind her. The reports had said there were two riders. There should have been four, his parents, his cousin and Roger. His own curiosity was baiting him to ask, though he may not enjoy the answer, “where is the rest of your party?” 

He took notice of the quick inhalation of air and the way her shoulders stiffened.

“Your father is tending to the horses. They have a way of drawing peace to him...your cousin Ian was left behind with the Mohawk,”

Rin starred, “the Mohawk-

“Where is Brianna?” Her question cut his words, “how is she? The babe? I assume you’ve been tending to her,”

Rin licked his lips, “she is rather large,” a snort came from his mother as they entered the home, “I’ve been tending to her the best I’m able but I daresay my medical practice was not often with expectant mothers. I think she could have her baby any day now. And I am gladdened beyond belief that you will be here to help her deliver.”

If he thought his reunion with his mother was embarrassing, it was a trifle to the reunion with his father. Rin had left the parlor after viewing the joyous reunion between his sister and Claire. The pair embraced and the talk soon turned to Roger and to Ian who’d been traded and then to babies. He excused himself and began to walk out staring at the wooden floor in front of him, colliding into a rather large something that sent him stepping backwards and then straight onto his arse. Cursing in Spanish, he opened his eyes to find that it was not an armoire or a dresser that he’d bumped into, but a Scotsman.

“I’m sorry lad,” the deep burr said, “I didna see ye,”

The hand that was offered to him was coated in dirt and had a dressing around it. Despite its injury, the grasp was tight and yanked him to his feet without much effort. How was it, two men who towered over most others, managed to knock into each other? 

“Tis good to see you on your feet,” Jamie continued. 

“Thank you,”

The look upon his face indicated that Jamie had more to say but no words were coming. In light of the new revelation, Rin felt as though he was being examined and drew himself to full height. He had to remind himself that what the Scotsman may view as an affliction was not displayed across his forehead. Fraser would need not to ever know. 

They both stood in the hallway beside the stair, exchanging glances at one another, but carefully avoiding direct eye contact.Their salvation came in the form of Grey descending the stairs, a smile illuminating his face.

“My lord,” Jamie said diplomatically.

John raised an eyebrow. The address was a familiar one that he had not been addressed by in some time by Jamie. Years of odd friendship and upon Grey’s request, his Christian name was usually utilized. 

“I understand congratulations are in order,” Jamie continued, “you are to wed my daughter?” 

The statement came out phrased like a question that truly did not require an answer. The Englishman bleached and there were words and an explanation coming to his mind. Someone, Rin would wager what little money he possessed, that his Aunt Jocasta had enlightened Jamie. She was endlessly pleased at the thought of Brianna marrying so respectfully. Rin could not determine if the reproachful eye was in seriousness or in jest, but felt compelled to intervene. 

“It is not...It was done to protect her,” Rin settled upon, “it was actually upon Brianna’s request,”

The familiar Scottish noise returned.

“She er kind of forced it upon him?” Rin felt two pairs of blue eyes of differing shades turn towards him violently. The dark slanted ones foretold of shock and confusion, the lighter rounder ones were of warning.  _ Shut up now Rin. Shut up _ , “if you’ll excuse me,” 

The lad did not wait to be excused. Jamie watched as he disappeared up the stairs and out of sight. The echoing of a slamming door told them he had entered his bedchamber. 

“Walk with me?” Jamie asked. 

***

“Claire thinks he’s having a hard time with me because he already had a-a-male presence in his life,” Jamie admitted as they nearly completed the perimeter of the yard. Claire had confessed this on one of their nights on the return trip, where their conversations would lead towards their children. He feared Brianna would never forgive him and Rin would not accept him.  _ He had a father _ , Claire had whispered, her voice so feathery and light. At the word  _ father _ , Jamie saw red. He sat up in their tent and glared at his wife, demanding how she could say such a thing.  _ Raymond is the bastard who kidnapped him.  _ He regretted his tone of voice when he saw the hurt in her eyes.  _ I did not mean it that way _ . _ Rin had a male figure in his life and from what little I can tell, never a mother figure _ . 

Her words stayed with him. All of his children had been raised by different men-Roger, Raymond and the Englishman he was currently standing beside. He had some respect for Roger and more for Grey, but absolutely nothing but abhorrence for the frogman. He took much pride that Brianna had addressed him as “Da” when he went to see her. There was a softness in her eyes. The anger, though he was sure was still there, had subsided. Rin hardly looked at him. 

“He willna look me in the eye John,”

John sighed, “Jamie I did not think it's for the reasons you might believe.”

“Aye? Tell me what do you think it is that I believe?”

“That Rin does not see you as a father?” At the look upon Jamie’s face, he continued, “quite the contrary. He looks up to you. Compares himself to you. Many of his questions about you, came with responses putting himself in a negative light.”

“Why?”

“I believe he thinks you’d want a son like you,” Grey grinned then, “loud, impulsive, abrasive and quick to temper and as you would say braw.”

“I didna care if he is like me,” Jamie said stubbornly pouting, “I would much prefer he’d look me in the eyes however he is,”

“Not being of a similar temperament as you might save him from future incidents of trouble,” Grey said rather thoughtfully. He knew his comments were not assisting the matter any, but he felt owed to say them. William was very much his father. Grey gave himself headaches conjuring up what kind of mischief the boy would get entangled in in due part to inheriting Fraser’s temper. Jamie appeared to not enjoy the remarks, “your son does enjoy playing chess. And in a similar vein to his father, he has indulged me in a few games. I am glad to report that he has not yet won against me, but he is still young. Maybe challenge him to a game?”


	26. Chapter 26

Claire was attracted to the parlor room by the sound of laughter coming from within it. She recognized her daughter’s high giggles. She had been looking for Brianna and that could be her excuse for stopping in to see what it was that had her daughter so entertained. Brianna sat on one of the armchairs, slouching into the cushions. Her unnamed infant was resting against her chest wrapped in a blanket so only the crimson hair was visible. The little fiend had arrived in the company of his whole family. Brianna had determined that her father and brother would remain in the room. She took that moment to teach Rin about childbirth and would be lying if she was not amused by the slight green he turned and how seriously he told Bree that she was a warrior for enduring childbirth and then looking at her incredulously and asked who would ever want to give birth twice? 

Rin was sitting on the arm of her chair, shaking his head. His wild curls that he got from her, were shaking wildly. A second man sat on the couch. He was handsome, with eyes of bright blue grey that stood out against the darker hues of his skin. 

“Mama!” Bree called out in between bursts of laughter. 

The stranger’s head turned quickly, whipping around to stare at her. His eyes appraised her face. She sensed he was searching for something and at first wondered what it could be until he started looking between her and Rin. He had noticed the resemblance that had so far gone unnoticed in Riverrun. He was not surprised by this, instead he appeared rather content by it. He stood from the sofa and bowed before taking her hand. 

“It is an honor to meet you Madame Fraser,” his Frenchness surprised her. He was dressed as if he were an Englishman. He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss to the top of it, “it is evident where your son has received his looks,” 

She took her hand back and added, “good looks I hope,” 

“ _Oui._ Madame. You are a picture of beauty,” 

Rin was standing. He clapped an arm around the Frenchman whose name she still had not been told and smiled too harshly for it to be genuine. He plucked the glass of wine from the man’s hand and proclaimed, “I think you’ve had enough Leo,” The glass was held above Leo’s head and though Rin was not much taller, his arms were lankier. Leo attempted to jump but Rin was faster; he turned around and moved swiftly behind Brianna’s chair. Their antics were one of a familiar nature. 

Brianna must have read the look on her face, “They went to school together Mama. At Lycée Saint-Louis-de-Gonzague,” Claire winced at the clunky pronunciation, “or they did until they were both expelled.” 

“Bree!” Rin called out as Claire said, “Rin?” 

“I do not think this story needs to be retold,” Rin said.

“It involves a stink bomb and an explosion!” Bree said gleefully ignoring her brother.

“Oh now I think I need to hear this story,” She folded her arms across her chest, watching the blush creep along her son’s face. The flush of his skin was turning the same shade as his sister’s hair. Leo happily broke into the story once more. Setting the scene at a prestigious Jesuit school in the 16th arrondissement of Paris. Her suspension of yet another time-traveler occured when Leo announced that her son came late into the spring term of 1916. 

“A _Garçon mince_ , a thin boy, he was. Very tall. His very presence drawed immediate hate from one Monsieur Gagnon,” He was a born story-teller.

Gagnon hated her boy because he came late nearly everyday. His story involved the same excuse he’d been unfocused on the train. Rin who was now a shade of red closer to Jamie’s hair explained he’d never seen a train. He’d forget to get off because he enjoyed watching the trees and the scenery of Paris escape him by. 

“Gagnon was a bastard,” Leo pronounced, “so we conjured an idea to take revenge,”

“We?” Rin countered.

Leo laughed, “alright. I confess it was I who was the mastermind but it was your son who knew to concoct _bombe puante_. He was also the thief who stole the ingredients from Monsieur Braeson. Created a fine explosion. Destroyed Gagnon’s room,”

“Oi!” Rin uttered, “It was you who put in too much _sulfure d'ammonium_!”

They were expelled that day. And forbidden from ever returning to campus grounds. Rin had never told Raymond. Instead he stole away the letter and pretended to take the train into school each day. Leo did the same. They would meet in the outerims of Paris, spending his tuition money on wine, drink and for Leo, whores. It was some of the happiest days of his life. They’d sleep in fields and even ventured as far as the coast. They shared secrets and philosophies and ponderings of where it was they’d end up in the future. Though neither had expected they’d be in North Carolina in 1770. 

Claire could not help but to smile at the thought of her son engaging in such devious acts. She imagined him to be a studious student intent on fitting in as he navigated each time period. She had never been to a formal school as a child or teenager. All of her schooling took place by Uncle Lamb’s side in dusty dig sites or in hotel rooms or tents. She thought if she was a student she’d be a bit of a troublemaker, but did not think she’d ever accidentally blow up a school. Maybe there was more of that Fraser in him. _Speak of the red devil_. Jamie appeared at the doorway then. Lingering in the archway until she beckoned him in with a swift gesture of her hand. He shuffled in, coming to stand beside her. His eyes solely on his son. Brianna had already admitted that she had forgiven him. 

“This is Leo,” Claire introduced, “Rin’s friend from school,”

“Mama,” Bree said suddenly as the baby began to stir. It was time for her to nurse again. 

“Excuse us,” Claire said, helping her to her feet. 

His infant nephew cried as they left the room leaving behind Leo, Rin and Jamie. 

“You were friends in school?” Jamie was apparently coming to the same conclusion that Claire had. He knew Rin spent many of his formative years jumping from various time periods. Friends should not be in this time period.

“In France in 1916,” Rin supplied, hoping that Leo did not tell again the story of their expulsion. He suspected Claire would tell Jamie later anyway. 

“A pleasure to met you Mr. Fraser,” Leo said politely, “but if you pardon me, the hour is rather late.” 

Rin wanted to call for him to stay but remained quiet. Father and son stood in the room, both wanting to say something but neither quite saying it. It was then that Rin noticed that Jamie was carrying a nondescript box. Curiosity peaked and he tilted his head, “what is that?” 

“A chess board. Lord John told me that you play and I would be honored if you would join me,”

“Did he tell you that I have not secured myself a victory?” There it was, the negativity Lord John had described.

“Humour your father, will ye?” Jamie said as he placed the set on the coffee table and gestured to the seats they would occupy. His heart raced. He did not think his heart could take it if his son refused. To his great elation, Rin sat as directed and the game commenced in great silence until the boy ventured to break it. 

His eyes fluttered up beneath thick curved lashes, “I learned to play chess as a boy in the Tudor Court,” He continued on, “I was a companion of King Henry the VII’s elder son, Prince Arthur. When I was not charming the nobility by playing the harpsichord or singing or the piano, I was playing chess with him,” Thoughtfully he added, “He was kind, Arthur and intelligent. I despaired to learn that he died young without ever becoming King,” Rin moved his pawn, “his brother however, was a monstrous pest when he was a child who became a tyrant, that tore apart England,” 

Jamie was staring at his son. He was aware of his son’s unusual life, but hearing he had been in the court of a King who had lived over two hundred years ago was startling. What was he to say to these confessions? He hummed moving a knight without really meaning too. The game continued in utter silence until Rin’s queen fell. His son moved to stand, his need to escape flashing in his eyes. Jamie held up his hand and coughed, “hold on, hold on. I have something for you,” His son fell back onto the chair as Jamie stood to look for the satchel he’d stashed as he had entered before. He handed it to his son and whispered, “Happy Birthday Peregrine,”

“Birthday?” Rin repeated.

“Aye tis the twelfth of May. Has been for about an hour,”

Hesitant fingers unwrapped the brown paper. The unwrapping revealed a tartan kilt of blue and red and brown. It was not a gift he was expecting. They were Fraser colors. The fabric was worn but void of any spots. He took it gingerly in his hands, fingers feeling a square of red, then blue and then brown. He tried to blink away the tears that were coming but they feel anyway. The gift was his heritage. His family. His clan. Something he knew so precious little about. His father had been a Laird. And had the rising not happened or he had not been kidnapped at birth, he’d be second-in-line. 

“I’m sorry I thought-

“The gift is perfect, _taing do_ ,” The Scottish Gaelic for thank you was one of the only phrases he had mastered. The pronunciation was not ideal but the phrase made Jamie’s head jerk upward in surprise. He sprouted out Gaelic. None of which Rin recognized, “I apologize. _Taing do,_ is one of the only phrases I have learned. My lessons with Aunt Jocasta have not been progressing well,”

“Aye I canna imagine they would. She is not a patient woman is she? Mayhaps if you would like I could take over her lessons?” 

Rin felt his lower lip quiver uncontrollably. Not trusting himself to voice his appreciation he nodded. He licked his lips a few times, “Could you….is there a certain way…,” 

“Aye I’ll teach ye,” 


	27. Chapter 27

It took a few tries for the kilt to fall the right way. Each of his own attempts failing to be unwrinkled or pleated in the right spot. On his fifth try his attempts received a sort of affirmative Scottish growl. For now, that appeased him. He had never worn a skirt before and it felt almost odd to have air swaying the hairs on his legs. Jamie had told him that true Scotsmen typically donned nothing beneath their pleats. Rin was not ready yet for that step and instead rolled up his breeches as high as they would go. He shrugged out of his socks, clasping them in his hand. 

“ _ Mo mhac _ ,” Jamie said, coming to clasp Rin by his shoulders, “ _ fuil m ’fhuil _ . My son and blood of my blood. For so long May the twelfth was a day of sorrow and grief,” The admittance confused Rin at first, until he remembered that he had a twin sister, Faith had been her name. Was it odd that he felt he should mourn her? A child who never took a breath, “For memories of Faith always hung over me, and though it is still a sad day, I am happy to find that it can also be a day of celebration for it is the day ye were born,” 

Anger raged then. A bitter clenching of his stomach that was intertangled with his grief and his confusion. He had not yet said the words aloud or admitted to himself the atrocity that occurred to him when he was moments old, that he’d been kidnapped away. The man who had raised him and taught him to heal and all about the ways of the world had been his kidnapper. Kidnapper and Raymond did not seem to match each other, as if his brain refused out of loyalty and love.

“Why would he kidnap me? Why would he tell me that I was not wanted? Why were you not with mom when I was born?” The questions came out in a jumbled haste. Their tone sounded childish and defeated. Some of the questions were ones he had since he was child. Others were from the day he found out who his parents were and when he was told the story of his birth. The hands that had been resting on his shoulders released then. He wished he had not said anything at all. Jamie’s face was contorting with anguish. 

Though his words stung, it was the first time he’d called Claire Mom. The parental address caught his attention. Jamie heaved in a deep breath, “I was not with yer Ma because I was in the Bastille and tis something I will forever regret,” 

“I know that,” Rin said, “but why were you in the Bastille? What did you do?” 

“I dueled an Englishman and dueling wasna allowed in France,” 

Rin felt anger surge once more, “and you could not possibly avoid it?”

“No,” 

The definitiveness of his answer silenced Rin’s next line of inquiry. The man looked pained at the thought of talking about the incident. He too must be reconciling the events of Faith’s death and his kidnapping to the things he had thought he’d known. 

“Why would he take me from you? How could he when he knew you’d lost my sister?” Rin was pacing now grabbing fistfuls of his kilt, methodically squeezing and releasing them, “when he knew I’d be loved…..why do I still love him?” 

“Rin,” Jamie whispered he wanted to grab the boy’s shoulders again and hold him still. He was moving across the floorboards in a rapid fashion, his hands seizing and releasing his kilt. Would he not be able to breath again? What had Claire called those? Panic attacks? His mind was utterly blanking on what his wife had said to do about them. Fearing the imminent danger, he crossed the distance and grabbed at the bony shoulders, “you don’t wanna work yerself into a fit...Rin it is okay that you love him. Despite what he did, he still was the one who raised you,” 

“I want to hate him,” Rin admitted, “I want to hate the man who took me away from you. Who yanked me from time period to time period, who left me with a bunch of letters with clues and no real answers, but I don’t think I can,”

Though it was causing his insides to ache, Jamie assured, “dinna fash...now will ye sit down? Ye look out of breath,” 

Rin allowed himself to be led to the sofa. He plopped into the seat and sunk into it. Belatedly he remembered he was wearing a kilt and shifted so that his legs were closed. Jamie took the seat across from him and in the silence he began to clean up the black and white chess pieces. While doing so he was listening to his son breathing. He did not mind the angry huffs and nasal sounds coming from Rin, it meant he was still breathing. When he looked up he saw that he was muttering underneath his breath.

“I see a chess set, I see a sofa, I see a picture,” This proclamation was followed by, “I feel my kilt, I feel the tips of my fingers, I feel…m-Claire told me this could help,” Rin only explained due to the strange eye Jamie was giving him.

“Ye called her Mom before,” Jamie said gently, “I think she would be mighty pleased if ye kept calling her that,” 

“Right,” He coughed straightening himself in his chair, “Mom told me they could help. It sounds queer but she called it grounding. Saying the things I see, touch, hear or smell. It keeps my thoughts in the present,”

“Yer mom has never given us incorrect medical information. I would trust whatever counsel she brings and not question it,” Jamie said sagely. 

“Do you...does it offend you?” The question garnered a sharp glare, “that I-I get upset so easily? That I..that I’m not you?” It was not what he had meant to say but nonetheless it was the question he desperately desired to know the answer to. “That I am not a fighter or a leader or-

“Peregrine,” The name came through in a deep growl halting Rin’s tirade before it had truly spiraled, “I do not care if ye are like me. I do not care if you like to fight or not. I love ye for who ye are. My son, my boy who can play the piano and the harpsichord, who kens how to doctor wounds like his Ma. Ye are a kindhearted soul who any man would be proud to call his own. I love ye and I am sorry if I made you feel as if I did not,” 

When he received no response, Jamie continued, “ _ Mo mhac _ , I confess I donna know how to act around ye. Yer sister came to me asking what she should call me. That might be her way of confronting things, and tis my way as well. I don’t-Peregrine I don’t know how to be around you but I do know I love ye and that I am proud of the man ye are,”

“You barely know me,” the confession was whispered, small and timid as if he had not really wanted to breath it into existence. The words pierced his skin and made him feel alight with both pain and rage. Jamie wanted to say  _ because you won’t let me know ye _ .  _ Ye keep me away and look like a cat about to pounce whenever I approach _ .

“I want to know ye,” Jamie settled on figuring the words were as neutral as any. 

His amber eyes were red rimmed and swollen but they looked up, “I guess I hardly know you either,” The confession was accompanied by a sheepish expression and a snort, “I think we’ve both done a wonderful job of avoiding each other without really intending too,”

“Aye,” Jamie admitted.

“What is it that you told Bree to call you? I-I,” Rin bite on his lip, “I do not wish to call you Jamie. It does not feel proper.”

“Da. I told her to call me Da and before ye ask it is not Gaelic but it is what I called my father, your grandfather, when I was a lad….,” His words were interrupted by Rin uttering Da, testing it out first in a whisper and then more confidently.

“Da,” Rin repeated, “the word suits you,” 

***

Rin and Jamie had bid goodnight a few moments after he’d first uttered Da. The night’s emotions had gotten to him. He could feel the sudden onset of exhaustion, threatening to overtake him. They hesitated where they were to part ways to their respective bedchambers, both leaning towards embracing the other, but then backening away. Rin waited until he heard the closing of Jamie’s door before heading into his own. He was startled to find that his room reeked of smoke. He coughed, and then realized he was not alone.

“ _ Leo _ ? What the? I told you about the lighter!” 

Leo’s face was alight with amusement. His dimple showing broadly and his eyes gleefully raked over Rin’s kilt-clad body. He whistled. The high-pitched whistle he usually saved for the girls he thought pretty. The sound of it made the heat rush to Rin’s cheeks. 

“Madam you look very pretty in a skirt,” 

Rin turned abruptly, catching sight of his tear-streaked face and tousled hair. “The garment is called a kilt,” He quickly tried to run a hand through it, hoping to calm it. It only sprung wider in defiance. His hands went to remove his kilt when Leo began to speak once more.

“ _ Mes excuses _ ,” Leo replied not sounding remorseful at all, “You are a true Scot now, _ oui _ ?” 

The teasing tone made Rin’s hands halt. 

“The kilt is Fraser tartan,” he explained, turning to face Leo.  _ Damn his curls. And he was a Scot _ , “ _ Je suis prêt _ . My family motto,”

Leo who had been sitting on the edge of his bed blew out the last of his cigarette. He had been using a coffee cup as an ashtray. He leaned backwards extinguishing it and remained there on the mass of pillows. The sight was intoxicating, him sprawled out atop his bed and his quilts. He tilted his head, “how is it that a Scottish family has a French motto?”

“The Frasers come from Anjou with William the Conqueror,” 

“Quite an impressive pedigree you have, no?”

His mind was slowly lining itself up with his thudding heart slowing it enough for him to ask, “why is that you are in here?” Suspicion edged into his mind, “If you are in search of gems or some other artefacts I assure you I have none,” 

“ _ Joyeux anniversaire _ ,” Leo held up his hands, “I only came to wish you a very joyous birthday,”

The phrase surprised him. Leo pushed himself off the bed and Rin felt his mind slipping away from the maroon walls of his bedchamber. Strong hands tentatively grabbed at his own. Was Leo trying to hold his hands? Why was Leo trying to hold his hands? Any capacity he had to rationalize was fading. The feeling of hands gently intertwined in his own, faded. Instead warmth was around his ears and his cheeks, and then Leo Pétain’s wide mouth touched his own. 


	28. Chapter 28

“Are you sure we are not going to frighten him off with a half sawed off candle and a cookie?” Brianna asked once more as she crept behind her mother, “I mean are birthdays celebrated like this yet?” 

Claire was not truly listening to her daughter. Instead, she was cupping the candle, preventing the slight breeze from extinguishing the light before reaching her son’s room. It was the first birthday he’d be celebrating with them and she would be damned if she did not make it special. Jamie had returned to their room practically doing a jig. He had not divulged all of the details but she knew something had shifted in his relationship with their son. The only certainty that Jamie had told her was that he had accepted the kilt. The gift had been her suggestion. She knew Rin was trying to desperately connect to his Scottish heritage. A part of her was desperate to see him in it. It would enlighten old dreams that had suffocated underneath Culloden and twenty years of being separated from Jamie. She knocked on his door and called out his name. By Brianna’s account, he was an early riser but as he did not answer the door she tried once more, this time calling out of his name.

“Rin? Are you alright?” 

“Mama!” Brianna hissed when Claire reached for the doorknob. Bree was used to Claire barging into her bedroom unwelcomed. They had many rows about the manner and they had to set ground rules such as the three-knock rule, but Rin was not. He was also deserving of privacy and of the three-knock rule.

Claire could feel the knob turning and she jerked her hand away. Rin appeared in the sliver of the doorway. 

“Happy Birthday!” He was only wearing the kilt. Had he slept in it? Or had he tried to put it on this morning? His attempt was a ruffled mess, but still, the sight made her feel lightheaded. In her time in Boston when she let herself fall into the heaviness, she imagined Brianna at Lallybroch, running alongside her Murray cousins through the hills and the forests and the trees. She had been trying to do the same with Rin, but as she had not known him as a child, the image was blurry. The kilt solidified it now. 

He peered over his shoulder, “uh uhm thank you,”

“Are you alright Rin? You’re sweating,” She stepped forward towards him but he stepped backward. His hand tightening its grip on the door. She was reminded strongly of Brianna as a teenager trying to hide something in her bedroom. Was he trying to do the same? Or was he in the bout of a panic attack and did not want to tell her, “is your breathing okay? I can brew you-

“I’m fine!” he interjected, “I’m fine Mom. I promise. My room is stifling and I’m not dressed. May I meet you downstairs?” 

Her fear over his state of being was pushed aside by the word “Mom”. He had called her Mom. The word was humming in her ears. How different it was that he was twenty-something and calling her mom for the first time. Yet it felt the same as she did the day Brianna mumbled “Mama” instead of “Dada”. She did not care that the door slammed in their faces.

***

_ Merde, merde, merde _ . Shit, shit, shit Rin thought as he whirled around. His room was the epitome of how he felt, disheveled. His shirt lay at the right post of his bed, crumbled from where it had been discarded. His stockings were strewn across the floor as if they’d tried desperately to make a dash for the window. His eyes found the window then, watching as long limbs paused in their escape attempt. Leo grinned at him in a sheepish manner ducking his head and purposefully maneuvering his right leg back over the windowsill. For a long moment, neither of them said anything at all. Their eyes, stormy greyish blue and amber engaged in a staring contest that made it evidently apparent both were re-thinking their previous night’s actions.

He could still feel the ghosting of Leo’s first kiss. The suddenness of it threw him off-guard. It must, he reasoned, be some sort of prank or error, but when the lips did not retract themselves, Rin closed his eyes and melted into it. Their touching and embracing was fervent, and nervous all at once. They said nothing at all in the course of it all and only stopped themselves just before becoming carnally intimate. Both had many drinks and had reached ecstasy before needing to go any further. They fell asleep entangled in each other only to be woken by the sound of his mother knocking. He took a moment to drag a chair in front of the door. He loved his mother. He loved that she cared so fiercely and he did not doubt if she really thought he was ill that she herself would break down the door to tend to him. Or worse, she’d get Jamie to do it. Not wanting either of that, he absolved to talk quickly and returned his glance to Leo. Rin could see the regret etching into Leo’s face.

“Leo,” he said breaking the silence that had fallen upon his bedchamber, “were you going to leave me a note?” 

The sheepish grin turned to a genuine one, “you know my handwriting is shit.” 

“We need to talk,” and he could see that Leo’s mind was reeling. For a man who lived so vivaciously and who liked to cause problems by using his mouth, he was not a man of confrontation, “but I am afraid if I linger too long here my parents-

“ _ Oui _ ,” Leo said, “ _ je comprends,”  _

“I also would prefer you not climb from my window,” Rin said, “though I know you can be quite agile, it would lead to maybe more consequences if you were spotted,” 

“ _ Le rabat-joie _ ! You are such a bore Peregrine,”

“I am, but please I beg of you to wait until I leave and then go,” 

Rin could see that he was weighing the options in his head but he gave his nod of consent. Rin went about picking up the reminder of their clothes, throwing Leo’s into a pile on his bed. Rin was about to let the poorly tied kilt fall to the floor when he realized that Leo was starring. “Do you mind?”

“I have seen it,” Leo protested, “I have literally seen all of you and now you are prudish?” 

Still feeling his eyes upon him, Rin turned and let the kilt crumple at his feet. 

***

“He called me Mom,” Claire told Jamie when she returned to the porch where they had set up a makeshift picnic. Jamie was laying out the biscuits and the scones and the drinks. Brianna was settling her son in his wicker basket, she turned to offer her Mom a smile, but found her parents were only staring at each other communicating silently. Whenever she observed them in this mode, she felt as if she was invading something that was private.

Rin appeared then, significantly less sweaty and wearing breeches. He was clutching his satchel in his hands and staring at the spread with mixed joy and apprehension. He sat cross-legged beside Brianna. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Claire asked.

“I’m fine...I’m more than fine….I’m-I’m,” He paused, “I’m very happy...I want to give you something,” 

“It’s your birthday....,” Claire began but then watched as he dug into the elusive bag. He spared one glance around them to be assured that no one was close enough to see.

From within he pulled a decorative silver box. His fingers pried open the rusty hinge revealing inside of it a mixture of photographs and miniatures. In the first picture was a boy of about eight, staring in wonderment at the machines around him. He had the same unruly mop of curls and it was easy to see how the man had formed from the boy before them. Jamie withdrew his glasses from his pocket and he gripped the other edge of the photograph. Both of the Frasers were rendered speechless. 

“You were an adorable little boy!” Brianna proclaimed, “your hair has not changed. You still need a comb,” 

Claire whose vision was now blurred with tears, reached for her son’s head and was grateful that he allowed for the touch, “he has my hair. You know it can not be truly tamed,” 

“There are a few more from the hospital. They’re the best quality photographs...you know being from the 1980’s...here is my enlistment photograph,”

This picture was oval and grainy. Claire was still grateful for the glimpse of her boy at any age. Her fingers traced his face. “You know, my father fought in World War I...for the British. It is odd to think you two were in the same war, grandfather and grandson,”

“I wonder if I ever crossed paths with him,” Rin said just as thoughtfully. He was trying to recall if any of the British men he met or tended to had the surname of Beauchamp. The name would have had no meaning for him. It would have been blurred out as all of the other Smiths or Andersons or Johnsons. Time was an odd and very fickle thing. 

“You  _ look  _ like him. I think you would’ve noticed,” Brianna inputted, “Mama used to have a picture of his and our grandmother’s wedding in her study. They both died in a car crash when Mama was little, so I never met them, but I used to spend hours staring at that photograph desperately trying to match my features to theirs,” She caught Jamie’s smile, “I always knew some kids looked like grandparents or aunts or uncles, but none of the photographs of Mama’s family or Frank’s looked like me. No redheads,”

“How unfortunate,” Rin teased, pretending to sound heartbroken.

Brianna was not off-put by his remark and continued, “the pictures were black and white so I could not tell their true coloring, but Mama said she and you got that amber eye color from her mother,” 

“Genetics are so strange,” Rin mused and when his father stared at him oddly he explained, “genes determine what we look like. They’re inside of us, they determine how we look or how someone’s offspring would look or if they can time-travel apparently...I have one baby portrait of myself...I think ‘tis me at about two and oddly enough…,.” he retracted the miniature. He knew it was kind of weird to be carrying around pictures of oneself, but he’d found it among his Raymond’s things and was touched that the man would keep it in his personal belongings and now he could give it to his parents. He had not looked at the image in a long while, but could recall a cherub looking infant in a gown looking petulant. He wondered where it was the image was painted or why Raymond had paid for it all. Was it some sort of paternal emotion? Or was it payment from a client who could not pay in the usual means? He pushed aside those ponderings as he turned the image to his family, “and it might just be that the colour has faded or the painter might not have mixed the correct colors, but it looks as if the hair atop my head is a bit redder in color,” The red was not the same fox pellet red that was Jamie’s or Brianna’, but a muddy red. Maybe his hair had turned darker as he grew or maybe it was as he said, a mistake by the painter. 

“Ye were a brawny barn,” Jamie said proudly, “and bonny,”

“Thank you for sharing these,” Claire began though she had not yet stopped staring at the toddler in the picture.

“You can keep them if you’d like...I mean only if you want too-

“Of course we want to,” Claire said, “though I think it might be best we hid away your photographs. Would not want to be accused of being a witch,”

“Ah Sassenach, learned yer lesson?”

“You were accused of witchcraft?” 

Jamie looked pleased with himself as Claire let out an exasperated sigh. The sigh was cut short when she seemed to remember something, the light flashing eagerly in her eyes, “I was...by your father’s ex-wife,” The grin evaporated off Jamie’s face, replaced by a scowl of Scottish fury. The tidbit was news for Rin, he’d never heard that his father had been married more than once.

“Let’s not ruin our day by talking of Leghair,” Brianna said.

  
  



	29. Chapter 29

Brianna and Claire caught each other’s eye and began to laugh. Jamie sipped at his water, not sharing their amusement, and instead turned to look at his son who was very confusedly mouthing  _ Leghair _ . The expression upon his face was hysterical and Jamie felt himself grinning into his cups. She was not a person he liked to discuss, especially, not in the presence of Claire, but he clarified anyway, “her name is not Leghair, but Laoghaire and I married her in the twenty years I was without yer ma. It was annulled. Yer ma remains my one and only wife,” He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, “and yer Ma forgets to mention that she was  _ also  _ married,” 

“To my Dad..the man who raised me,” Brianna filled in, “Frank. I’ve told you about him,”

“And we’re,” Rin gestured to himself and Brianna, “your only children?”

At the question, Claire spat back the gulp of water she had taken, spraying it over the spread of biscuits. The motion and sound startled Brianna’s baby causing him to begin to cry. Claire prolonged her coughing trying to compose the racing of thoughts that had originated from a rather innocent question. The truth of the matter was, Faith, Rin and Brianna were  _ her  _ only children, but Jamie had a son, in their years apart. A boy she had only come to know about from Lord John and Jamie, a boy who she had met once in person. A handsome boy who greatly resembles his father and his sister. He invaded her thoughts more than she would have liked. At first he was a source of great pain. He could have been the son she and Jamie shared. The son she could picture. They had a son and yet William still lingered in her thoughts. Part of her, for the sake of Jamie and Rin and Brianna, wanted to march to Virginia to return him home. To be raised alongside biological father and siblings, to grant them all the chance they had been so cruelly denied by time.  _ I would be like Frank,  _ raising another woman’s son. She knew she could and had already felt maternal towards him. Time was as cruel as it was fickle. William could never know the truth of his paternity. There was a safety in him being assured that he was the son of the last Duke of Ellesmere. She had never discussed with Jamie what or if they would tell their other children. It was not her decision to make and Jamie so rarely spoke of him. She was watching him now. His face contorting with visible anguish as words warred within him. 

“Aye, ye two and yer sister Faith, our only bairns,” He would not meet her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Rin uttered scratching behind his ear. It was a nervous tic, she’d observed. One he did not receive from instinct but one she realized came from Raymond. The sight made her insides twitch. What other remnants had his kidnapper inflicted upon him? When she came back to focus he was continuing his apology, “I meant no offense by my question...it’s just that you both married...and you’re young. I just wondered if there were more Frasers or Beachumps or Randalls,” 

“Am I not enough?” Brianna teased. 

Rin chuckled and stood. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, “you are the best sister I could’ve asked for, but I have heard that Scottish families….,”

“Breed like rabbits?” Jamie questioned, “ah well, mayhaps you’ll have many bairns with a wife in the future,” 

Rin blanched, his face immediately taking flush as his eyes spaced out. He recovered coughing and nodding his head in agreement. Claire stared at him, wondering which nerve it was they had touched upon. Had he been married? He was young...they thought him to be about twenty, but that was not too young. Jamie was not much older when she married him and Faith was conceived not much later. 

“Are you married?” She asked, the need to become too urgent to keep it to herself. Two pairs of dark blue orbs turned to her in surprise and then to their son and brother. The thought had never occurred to Brianna or Jamie.

Rin laughed louder, “me? Oh, no...I’ve never...no…I’m not married….never been close to being married,” 

“Do ye want to?” 

“Be married? Oh um sure one day I suppose,” 

The conversation returned to safer topics and all food save for the soiled biscuits were devoured. It was to be their last meal at Riverrun as they would depart in a few hours’ time. The birthday celebration was interrupted by both the baby’s cries and by Jocasta who wanted to speak once more to Jamie and Claire. Rin suspected that she was going to try to convince them once more to inherit the estate. Their absence led to him wandering the estate, trying and failing to stop thinking of the actions of the night before. He needed to find Leo, but the Frenchman was conveniently feigning illness in his chambers or so he had been told by Phaedra. 

“I am not….,” Leo’s voice died out when he saw Rin. He was committed to the cause, dressed in a banyan and buried underneath quilts. The ruse did not fool Rin, who had the misfortune of caring for an ill Leo before. A Leo who was ill, could not sit underneath a mountain of blankets. Instead he would stubbornly sleep atop them too sweaty and warm. His face would turn ashen and he’d have this pitiful look about him. His mother used to tease him about being a baby but gave into his whims. She was surprised that Leo allowed him to stay.  _ He’s a bit of a baby,  _ she said, in a teasing manner but the smile upon her face betrayed her. She did not mind the moments when he allowed her to mother him. Rin would observe how she lovingly made soup and brought blankets. He watched through the slither of the door, how she tucked in the sides of his blankets, brushed back strains of his hair and kissed his sweaty forehead. He was jealous of them both. 

“You can get up now. I know what you are like when you’ve truly taken ill,” When there was no shifting of blankets or long limbs Rin continued, “my family and I are leaving for Fraser’s Ridge soon. I do not...I can not leave until we discuss-

“Discuss what? There is nothing to discuss. We were drunk on spirits. It was a mistake,” 

The word cut through the still air, hanging and piercing his heart.  _ Mistake _ ? Was that what Leo truly thought of one of the best nights of his life? His one-night lover was staring out of the window.

“You’re the one who  _ kissed  _ me!” Rin whispered as loud as he could for he knew little else would get Leo’s attention, “you were the one who was in my room. That was not a mistake...was I your first?” 

“My first?” Leo chortled, “I’ve bedded many people and we fell asleep!”

“Yes. Females. I remember keenly our nights spent patronizing the finest establishments in Paris. It was my tuition money we used,” 

“Do not make yourself out to be innocent in this Peregrine. You too went to their beds,”

In those days of winding spring after they’d been expelled, their trips often ended in visiting the rather darker areas of Paris. Leo was eager to use the coin, disappearing for hours into the night. Rin had only paid once, but could not bring himself to use another in that way. Her name had been Isabella and she had been quite content to take his coin and listen to his woes. When he vacated the room, she had not yet redressed, her breasts spilling freely in the front of her untied shirt. She had kindly said nothing when Leo was patting him on the back for his alleged triumph. 

“No Leo. I am..I have not laid with anyone, male or female, but I have had relations with both.Was I...are you…,” 

“I do not know,” Leo confessed, clenching onto the sheets, “when I thought you dead..I-I wanted to die. You were  _ médical _ , I was the  _ soldat _ ,” 

“I felt the same when I dragged your bullet-riddled limp body through the trenches,” as he spoke, Rin moved closer to the bed sitting by Leo’s feet in the less invasive spot he could manage. Gingerly, he reached for Leo’s hand. It was frosty to the touch and stiff, but slowly it relented and eased into the embrace.

  
  



	30. Chapter 30

In the months since they returned to Fraser’s Ridge, there had been many moments of great jubilation. Roger had returned to Bree, and their son gained a name; Jeremiah Alexander Ian Fraser MacKenzie. The name was an improvement over calling the infant, baby, or bairn. He had even garnered a nickname, Jem or Jemmy, and in that time had grown into a handsome baby, losing the wrinkled skin that marks infants. The little hair atop his head was redder than his mother and grandfather’s hair. Claire knew they all sort of hoped his hair would grow in as dark as Roger’s, but those Fraser genes proved again how prevalent they were. The novelty of her baby having a baby had not worn off. How the hell had so much time passed?

Despite the abundant happiness, she could not help but observe that her son had seemed distant. He smiled and played with his nephew and helped her gather herbs. He dutifully took notes on herbs and their medicinal properties. He and Jamie would spend nights learning Gaelic. Marsali, who learned that he was learning Gaelic, decided to surprise him with spontaneous Gaelic and would only accept responses in Gaelic. She pretended in those moments not to be fluent in English or conversational in French. Brianna had begun to join them, and the natural competitiveness that was inherent in siblings seemed to come out. 

“Da gave us a quiz,” Brianna told her one evening, parchment clenched in her hand. Her eyes twinkled with their characteristic pride, bright over a thin nose, “well I had to force him to give us a quiz but…,” She shoved the papers towards Claire. There were no distinct red pen marks notating errors, but there were a few corrections in Jamie’s crooked writing and a score of 37 out of 40.

“Excellent sweetheart,” Claire replied, “and you? Did your Da grade your test?”

Wordlessly he handed her the papers. In the same right-hand corner was a 38 out of 40. Brianna stared at it, startled that he had scored more points. She took the papers from Claire’s hands, comparing his answers to hers. Rin did not stop to hear their praise; instead, he walked through the house and into the barn where he’d been sleeping.

“Rin are you alright?” She asked, walking into the barn, but he was already asleep, genuinely asleep. She tested by taking his arm and letting the limp limb fall back to the cot. She brushed back his hair and placed a soft kiss on the pale forehead. She wished she could read him as she could sometimes read his sister. There were many things she was coming to know about him. Each a treasured piece that she cherished, but there was so much she suspected he was keeping from him. He rarely spoke of Raymond, whether it was for their sake or his own, she could not tell. She wanted to know more about his upbringing. Was he rocked to bed with lullabies? Did Raymond tend to his wounds? Did Raymond subscribe to lashes? 

When she entered her chambers, Jamie was reading. His glasses perched on his long nose. She could feel his eyes upon her, reading what she was trying to hide behind a smile. 

“Sassenach?” 

Every bit of her resolve subsided then, “it’s Rin. Something’s upsetting him,”

Jamie pursed his lips, mulling over her suspicions. Though his face was masked, she could tell by the noise escaping his throat that he did not share her thoughts, “he has taken to his lessons with a fervency, much to Bree’s annoyance. He has nearly won in chess the last three games-

“And he’s gone out and replenished my supply of medicinal herbs twice in the last two weeks,” Claire’s hands reached for the back of her dress. Wordlessly, Jamie stood and brushed aside her hands untying the knots with practiced familiarity, “I think he’s burying himself in all of these tasks,”

“Aye. But should we not complain about a son who is diligent and does chores?”

“I suppose,” Claire whispered, leaning to blow out the single candle before joining her husband underneath the covers. She listened for the quiet hum of the Ridge; Jamie’s slumbering breaths, the animals bleating, and the soft wind rustling the grasses and the trees. The melody should have eased her into sleep, but instead, she remained woefully alert and awake.

Abandoning her pitiful attempts at sleep, she took up the fabrics that were going to be Brianna’s wedding dress. The yellow hues that Brianna had chosen were beautiful and would suit her complexion well. When she pictured Brianna’s wedding, she pictured store shopping and venue hunting. She thought of Frank, his presence forcing his way into her thoughts. He and Jamie were competing in her head, replacing one another as who walked Bree down the aisle. Bree, too would, be wrestling with this. 

She woke to the sound of the rhythmic pounding of an ax chopping wood. The fabrics fell from her lap, along with her needles and thimbles. With a gentle nudging of the foot, she pushed them away from her path. Rin was barechested, sweat gleaming on his chest, and a sizable amount of firewood rested haphazardly around him. The scoliosis scar that ran the length of his back was more prominent in the morning sun. His frenzied manner had left many of the pieces oddly chopped, and she was not entirely sure where they’d store this new wood. Jamie had cut some the day before. She waited until he halted to regain his breath to call out to him.

“Rin?”

He returned to his chopping, oblivious to her approaching. The hue of the bags underneath his eyes contrasted horribly with the color of his skin. There were puffy and yellowed with bits of purple. He had not been sleeping. 

“Honey, you need to stop.” Her voice was firm, the tone she had used when Brianna was being particularly willful. It was one she had plenty of practice using over the years. His shoulders hunched up to his ears, and the chopping noises seized. He turned his head to face her, “put the ax down. When was the last time you slept?”

“I’ve been sleeping!” the defensive high-pitched remark made her raise her eyebrow. He licked his lips, “alright. I confess. Sleeping has alluded me, but I’m fine,”

“You are a shit liar, and you are coming into the big house where I am going to brew you something to make you sleep,” 

“I don’t-

“It was not a suggestion. I am not going to make you tell me why you cannot sleep, but you do need to sleep,” The tension in his body released when she wrapped an arm around him. She did not recoil when she felt his perspiration soaking her blouse. Jamie was sitting at the table when they walked in. He wisely said nothing but continued to sip at his water and draft his letter to Jenny. 

“I’m not going to-

She silenced his protests by yanking back the quilts and sheets, “it’s okay,” 

“It is your bed. Yours and Jamie’s. Is it not queer that I will be sleeping in my parents’ bed?”

“No. If...if you’d been with us when you were a boy, we’d have you cuddled up in our bed during those cold winter months. Or maybe if there was a bad storm or if you’d had a bad dream,”

The lines were meeting on his forehead, “I’m not a little boy,” 

“No, but you’re my little boy and you have not been sleeping, so get under the covers,”

Slowly, he climbed onto the bed. He propped up the pillows so that his back was supported, and he let her tuck him in. The sleeping remedy was a natural medicine to her. She procured it thoughtlessly, instead of mulling over how best to ask Rin what was bothering him. He was still alert when she returned, hands folded over the sheets and a frown tugging at his lips. She handed him the cup, and he took it but did not bring the contents to his lips. 

“Do you believe that we possess souls?” 

Claire sat at the edge of his bed, carefully as not to sit on his feet. Her immediate answer surprised her but “yes” came tumbling out, “the Catholic-

“I do not necessarily mean to make this question about religion, alas, it was more the beginning of my explanation,” He squeezed the sheets, “sometimes when I dream I think my soul or I travel. Raymond called it projecting. I do not mean as in dreaming,”

She could hear Jamie’s perplexed voice asking about Brianna’s birthmark and about seeing him. They had not discussed the matter since that night. The encounter was lost to the chaos that had enveloped them. She knew enough not to question impossible things. She and her children could travel through time. Did Jamie bequeath their son another gift? Was this a part of what Raymond had seen when Rin was born? 

Brianna never voiced experiencing this sort of projecting. Claire would have heard about it in the dream journaling phrase. Enthralled by the idea of dreams meaning something, Brianna would record them in a leatherbound journal beside her bed. Her dreams often provided breakfast conversations as they tried to dissect them, to very amusing results. 

“I believe you,”

“This gift has never been consistent. Never. But each night since we left Lady Cameron’s I have traveled,” 

“Are you not safe in these travels? Can you injure yourself when you travel?” 

“Nay. I do not believe so and I am safe, it’s just I do not wish to go where I go and see who I see when I dream,”

“That is very vague,”

He began to sip at the drink. Their conversation was replaced by his sips until the contents were empty. She took the glass from him.

“I’m sorry. For now, that is all I am willing to divulge,” he twisted to remove one of the pillows from behind him and began to lower his head, “thank you for making this for me and for uh tucking me in,”

“I’m your mom,” she cupped his cheek then, brushing her thumb underneath his chin, “and I love you,” 


	31. Chapter 31

“Can you stay? At least until I fall asleep?” The question came out in a soft hesitant way. Amber-colored eyes stared pleadingly at her. In them, she could see that they were expecting rejection. Instead of answering, she climbed onto Jamie’s side. The space was still warm and smelled of him and without really thinking of why she told the story of a dig site in Beirut. Storms were a rarity there and she had gone out exploring ignoring the greying sky. She hid for hours in an abandoned supermarket. The storm was ferocious. It was the first time she’d been convinced she’d die. When she fell asleep she dreamed of her parents for the first time in a long time. Their faces were unfamiliar and not truly clear, but a voice within her knew that it was them. They were speaking to her in the dream, but their words were not clear, but they must have been words of comfort and love for she woke with tears in her eyes and to the blinding sunlight. When she returned to the site, her Uncle Lamb hugged her and cried into her hair.

“Did...what did Raymond do when you were upset?”

His Adam's apple bobbed with forced gulping, “Raymond was not the sensitive type. Not to say that he was uncaring, but he has seen so many years and trivial manners did not interest him. I comforted myself through writing...sometimes...I-..,” His voice trembled, “sometimes I wrote to you...or I thought my mother was. You are very different than who I pictured in my head,”

“Do you still have the letters?” 

“I burnt them. I was not kind, and they were hateful and you are not the mother I imagined. I beg your forgiveness Mom,”

Claire felt a laugh bubbling up, but she stifled it as a cough into her arm. He could be so serious at times, her son. “You have my forgiveness, though, it’s not needed,” 

He ducked his head, hiding away her favorite smile. The one that showed his half-dimple, the shy one that tugged at the sides of his lips. It was boyish in nature and reminded her that he was still so young. So young and maybe just maybe there was still some mothering left for her to do. 

“I was terribly afraid of thunderstorms as a little boy,” he admitted, “I used to hid beneath my bed,”

“Bree was the same. She’d climb into bed with Frank, my other husband, and I” her fingers spun his ring around, “I’d wake up to a foot in my face,”

“I wonder if Da was afraid of thunderstorms,”

“I think everyone is afraid of thunderstorms and if they’re not, they’re lying,”

“I also used to be fearful of dragons. The first book I remember being read was  _ Beowulf _ ,”

She had heard stories of Jamie as a child from Ian, Jenny, and Jamie himself. She never thought to inquire as to what irrationally scared him as a child. For a long time after seeing Dracula, she was terrified of vampires and had many dreams about them coming for her and Uncle Lamb in the night. Jamie, who heard tales of Scottish folklore, was probably frightened by Banshees and faeries. She made a note to ask him. Rin’s eyes began to flutter then and his head fell slightly to the side. She stood from the bed and tucked the quilts in around him once more, pressed a kiss to his temple, and left the room where she knew she’d find Jamie waiting. 

Her husband was still sat at the table but his letter to Jenny was unfinished. It appeared he had given up writing. She knew he was trying to explain to her that they had a son, but it was taking every bit of imagination to explain Rin and his sudden reappearance. She was still unaware that Claire and Brianna hailed from two hundred years in the future, though could mend their relationship. It was not something one sent in a letter, especially when one could not answer the thousands of questions she and Ian would have. For now, she could answer the question in the slanted Fraser eyes that were facing her now.

“Do you remember telling me that you dreamed of Rin? When you dreamed of Bree and her birthmark?” At his nod, she continued, “well Rin is traveling or projecting as he calls it, each night. He would not divulge where it is he’s going, but it’s keeping him up.”

***

His mother’s tonic, whatever it was, did not help in the matter of his traveling. Instead, he materialized feeling groggy as if a film had been pulled over his eyes. The chamber was a familiar one. Its walls adorned in leafy wallpaper and its tiny hearth. He felt no heat from it though it roared. The occupant still had not learned that it was not safe to stoke the fire so before one fell asleep, but Leo, it seemed even without his presence still seemed to long for near-death experiences. The object of all his thoughts was slumbering in the bed, shirtless and entangled in the sheets. One bare leg hung limply from the bed. Leo’s face was unnaturally plain. Sometimes he wondered if he kissed those lips, would Leo awaken? Would he feel the presence? Why was he sleeping in the middle of the day? He inched closer feeling desperate for contact.

He dared not too. Their last moments together were one of confusion. And neither had a chance to discuss it. But the more he thought about it, the more he was assured that Leo did return his feelings, and that left him wonderfully happy and sad at the same time. This time was unsafe for men such as they. More dangerous than even Paris of 1916. He often took out paper to write him, but all resolution absolved the moment ink dripped onto the page. 

He would have to do something to stop himself from traveling and from being so remorse around the ridge. His moodiness had been noticed by his mother, and if she kept asking he knew he would tell her. That could be ruinous. He would have to halt his frantic chores and find other things to keep his mind occupied. Maybe he’d seek out his soon to be brother by marriage to teach him about the scripture. Though Roger was Presbyterian and to his Catholic father, a heathen. Maybe he’d ask them both so he could compare the faiths. Maybe he’d beg to be sent on an errand or he could build something. There had to be some sort of task to cleanse his mind.

Leo turned in his sleep, shifting the blankets to reveal more of his bare legs. Rin knew he slept without any clothes on, but in light, of their relations, he felt more awakened by his state. He wished he could see more, but his yearning woke him from his sleep. The sight of the risen sheet incurred immediate shame in him. He was in his parents’ bed and felt immoral reaching forward to resolve his issue. Instead, he tried to think of where he was and the inappropriateness of it all. 

When he emerged from the bedroom, he found that the sun had set. He must have fallen asleep for longer than he thought. Brianna sat by the fire, stirring some sort of soup. Jemmy asleep in the basket beside her. 

“Mama and Da went out to fetch some more water,” she told him, “I’m watching over supper,”

“Hopefully this won’t burn,” he folded his sleeves as he bent to gently cup his nephew’s face.

“One time Rin...one time,” there was an edge to her voice and a flush to her face. The first time she cooked for them the chicken was blackened. They ate the burnt bits with Jamie’s whiskey and said nothing for fear of upsetting her. Motherhood had been exhausting her, “did you get any sleep?” 

“A bit, thank you for asking,” 

There was little that remained secret in their family. What he told Claire, he knew some of it would be repeated to Jamie. As Jamie had said they were a team, but he doubted Brianna was asking to fish anything else out of him. She returned to gingerly stirring their soup.

“I’m getting married in two weeks,” her voice was airy. 

“Are you terribly excited?” 

“Equal amounts excited and terrified,”

“I think you would be insane to not be experiencing both emotions in the extremes,” 

The door opened revealing their parents arm and arm returning from the creek. Jamie carried the bucket of water which he sat near the front of the door. 

“They are still so in love,” Brianna whispered, “I hope Roger and I stay that in love,” 

“You will,” 

Dinner was a quiet affair. They were all exhausted in different ways. Jamie by building and running of the ridge. Claire by tending to her patients. Brianna and Roger from planning and from their rather boisterous infant. The soup was a mixture of chicken and vegetables. A precursor to chicken noodle soup. Before he left for his sleeping quarters, his mother handed him the same tonic and had the same worry engrained in her eyes. He did his best to smile. When he returned to his cot, he downed the tunic in three sips and laid his head upon the pillow. Sleep came easily and he returned to the leafy wallpapered room. The bed was oddly made. Why was Leo awake in the middle of the night? 

He turned to sit in his usual spot where he could be a voyeur but found it was occupied by a very short barrel-chested man, whose eyes, gleamed with the knowledge of all of his years.  _ Master Raymond _ .


	32. Chapter 32

_ ~His voice was not as strong as he would have liked. It was catching on the sob that had lodged itself in his throat. His chest felt as if it was being constricted but he forced the words from his mouth once more, “I absorbed my sister’s power? Is Faith dead because of me?”  _

_ “Oh non!” Raymond said returning from his wistful memory, “she was dead before you came into this world shinning with a brillance that I could not ignore,” _

_ Clenching his fist and slamming it onto the table, “You’ve told me that before….is that all you care about me for?”~ _

**H** e felt then as if he were floating, let go from his body, and from the room Leo’s chambers. It was protection from the flood of emotion that was bound to overtake him. A dreadful mixture of loathing and relief that would catapult him into punching or kicking whatever tangible item he could find. _ Raymond was alive and looked well- _ damn it- _ the man took you from your mother-liar, liar, liar _ . His eyes fell upon his first victim. Leo’s bedside table. With all of his efforts, knowing that there would be no effect, he slammed the front of his foot into it. 

To his utter surprise, he felt the impact. The contact sent pain up the whole of his calf and centralized in his big toe. As he yelped and catapulted himself awake, he heard the candle and the books topple over. Though his eyes had been forcefully opened, he could not see or feel much more than his toe. Wildly, he threw away the sheets and tried to rub at it. The touch turned his yelping into curses. 

“Christ,” Jamie said as he sat upon the bed. He positioned himself in-between his son’s flailing arms and hoisted the injured foot onto his lap, “stop yer flopping about! What in god’s name happened to yer toes?”

Blood from each of the extremities stained Jamie’s fingers, though that was not the most concerning aspect. The most concerning aspect was the swelling already present in the boy’s big toe. He attempted to shift the foot more into the basking light of the waning gibbous, but Rin was shaking his head. 

“Weel?” Jamie asked once more when the air seemed to be returning to Rin’s lungs. 

“I kicked a bedside table,” 

Red eyebrows knitted together. The room had been sparsely furnished. There was no bedside table to be kicked. 

“I-no I really cannot explain,” 

His eyes were wildly searching for his mother. 

“Yer ma went to Mr. and Mrs. von Halmstedders to help deliver a baby. Bree went with her,”

Jamie watched as a rather familiar look of determination cross his son’s face. Hands went up to the sweaty mess of tangled curls and a list of herbs came from his mouth. The ingredients were easily found and Jamie brought along the whiskey to disinfect. With only a few words said between them, they set about to clean and bandaged the injured foot. 

“I was traveling in my dream and I became quite angry,” Rin said sardonically gesturing to his foot, “on normal occurrences I do not feel anything at all when I go places in my slumber. But I sure as hell felt that bloody damned table!”

Stifled Scottish laughter came at the proclamation. 

“May I ask what is so hysterical?” 

“Ye kicking tables in yer dreams,” 

Though he did not want to laugh, Rin felt himself snorting. Soon he was overcome with laughter and that is how Claire found them, red-faced and near doubled-over with Rin’s foot resting in Jamie’s lap. Its bandaged state startled her, but she thought it must not be too bad for the pair to be in such a state. 

****

“Ouch!” he jerked his foot away from Marsali who’d been trying to help him into his shoe. She shot him a sharp look, one of a mother who’d forced shoes onto much tinier feet, and with the ceremony about to start, she was growing impatient. 

“Oi ye big baby. Stop yer whelpin’ and just let me put the damn shoe on, aye? On the count of three, one…,” and the shoe went on, without any wiggling or gentleness. He bit on his lip drawing blood not wanting to curse in front of her or Germain who absorbed every word the adults said around them. Said boy was grinning wildly at his discomfort from underneath the brim of his cap. Marsali stood offering a hand to her wild son and to him a smirk. Avoiding putting weight on his toe, Rin followed behind them. He took his seat beside his father, accepting his mother’s praise of how handsome he looked. 

From the lapels of his coat, he pulled out his flask of whiskey. He could feel their eyes upon him, but it was the only sort of medicine that kept away his nighttime traveling and absolved of any thought of Raymond. He turned to his journal for one night only pouring into it his relief, loathing, and anxiousness. His hatred simmering underneath the love he still bore the man. A man he desperately wished to hate wholeheartedly. He did not want to cause his parents more worry but he could see the worry flash across their faces and in their terse facial exchanges. He was saved by the arrival of his sister. She appeared radiant in her gown, in her being, and in her love for Roger. 

There was an odd assembly of guests. From tenants to a Lord to a Governor. He recognized Lord John Grey immediately. His lordship was dancing with what appeared to be all of the girls of the province. Some of them perked up upon seeing him. Alice O’Brien was the first to reach him. A tiny girl with a wide smile and wide blue eyes. She was pretty and her voice airy. And he was dancing the French cotillion. The steps coming back to him in misremembered nuances. His partner did not seem to mind and laughed politely at his gaffs. Her hand at times dipping much lower than it should have, brushing against areas it should not have. As the last notes faded, he bowed to her, and gingerly kissed the top of her hand. 

“It appears the musicians have paused,” 

“Will I see you when the music starts again Mister Fraser?” 

“I think you will,” 

She smiled and curtseyed before rejoining her friends. Her presence was replaced by Lord John who was eyeing him with acute suspicion present in his glare. It was the same questioning glance Amalie had paid him when she discovered him staring after an attractive footman. That had been the end of their relations. She could not understand the appeal of both genders. It appeared that the Lord who’d he confined this to, could still not comprehend the notion.

“Tis’ good to see you, your lordship,” 

“And you Mr. Fraser,” he took a long sip from his glass, “I must warn you, Lady O’Brien is engaged,”

“Is her betrothed here?” The familiar burn of whiskey filled his mouth and throat and chest. At the Englishmen’s soft “no”, he grinned, “then it is not a problem,” 

Some hours later he found himself forced to partake in a tongue-twisting drinking game. The chosen person had to sprout out a phrase or forfeit and drink a rather foul-smelling dark liquid. He found himself truly laughing at Grey’s attempts to quote Shakespeare. He was startled by the gauntlet being tossed at him. He was in no shape to conjure a tongue twister. His brain muddled by whiskey and exhaustion, he swayed on his feet as eager Scotsman jeered at him. At last, the words came, “Lesser leather never weathers wetter weather better,” It was not a satisfactory tongue twister and he too had the amber liquid poured into his mouth.

****

At first, his disappearance was not one of concern. Claire had watched Rin and a petite blonde talking. Heads bowed together and their voices low. Part of her wondered if she should stop the act. Courtship and dating were very different notions, but she caught sight of his smile underneath a passing torch and thought better of it. John Grey informed them the next afternoon that the girl’s name was Alice O’Brien and after much prodding, the Lord revealed that she was engaged. This was much to Jamie’s chagrin  _ Perhaps he hadn’t known _ , Claire had said, gently calming Jamie by squeezing his arm, but the slight head gesture and quirk of the lips betrayed that their son was well aware of the fact. 

They found Alice the next day. She was more than willing to divulge about their son in exchange for their vow to keep her discretions secret. She told of Rin disappearing into the woods soon after they had left the wedding. He returned to her looking spooked and muttering about needing to go to Virginia, though despite her prodding he did not divulge where it was exactly he was going or when he’d be back.   
“Why the devil would he go to Virginia?” 

“Raymond,” she hissed out, the realization clawing out of her. Two pairs of Fraser slanted cat eyes flared at her. Lord John’s pale blue eyes were slower to reach her face. The furrowing of the eyebrows foretold that he too had heard the name. Though he had never told her where he was traveling to in his sleep, she knew it now. Felt the truth within her soul. 


End file.
